Getting Rath Back
by L. VanDattae
Summary: When Rath dies in Kainaldia and Kharl gets to him first, the past just might destroy them both...
1. Getting Rath Back

Okay, first Dragon Knights fanfiction. Decide for yourself.

Disclaimer: Dragon Knights isn't mine, neither is anything else.

**Chapter 1**

Bringing Rath Back

The world inside Nadil's castle was cast in an endless sea of gray. The passages. The rooms. The floor. As far as the eye could see—it was gray. And not just ordinary gray, but that special kind of icky, placid gray. All other color had long since washed away.

All, that is, except the brilliant red of a single, small stone lying overlooked in a corner. It glowed with a faint light—a light that emanated from its bloody depths.

Despite this, it had gone utterly unnoticed by Nadil and all the other demons that had passed by.

So it had sat, the only speck of color in the gray passages that stretched out bleakly in either direction. Time passed—stretched out endlessly like the passages. Finally, the sun sank into the purple haze of the horizon. Darkness seeped in through the cracks and pooled in the corners.

_Thud_. _Thud_. The muted footsteps of a passing demon echoed down the hall. The footsteps paused as the demon caught sight of the stone and stopped to examine it. Slowly, he bent and picked it up in clawed hands. It was warm. But other than that, it was just a stone, no matter how closely he looked at it.

Absorbed in examining his find, the demon didn't immediately notice the white-robed figure that appeared in the shadows behind him… until it moved. He jerked back instinctively, surprised, and lashed out. Long claws flashed towards the white-robed figure. The distance between them closed rapidly and then… suddenly… everything changed.

There was a small flurry of ash and the demon felt _his own claws_ tear himself apart. The stone slipped from suddenly-limp fingers and clattered to the floor. The demon wobbled and collapsed in a heap of shredded flesh.

The white-robed figure stepped over the fallen demon, picked the stone up, and held it gently in his cupped hands. The stone began to flash violently, as though it recognized the touch of the white-robed figure. It soaked the gray walls in brief bursts of crimson light and stained the figure's robes a ruddy red—like dried blood.

"I know you're mad, Rath," Kharl said. "But I won't let you suffer anymore." He caressed the stone briefly, delicately with his fingers, as though the livid waves of light were no more than butterfly wings in his palm. Then he placed it in a small, velvet sack that hung at his side. He disappeared as silently as he'd come.

* * *

Garfakcy stood outside the large, double doors with his arms crossed. Loud crashing sounds and resounding clatters issued from the room beyond.

"Kharl's making a mess again." Garfakcy glared at the door, as though this were somehow its fault. But there wasn't any point cleaning it up 'till he was done. After all, last time Garfakcy had gotten involved a towering pile of misplaced books had toppled over on him. It had taken Kharl hours to realize he was gone.

Garfakcy sighed, resigning himself, and went to make lemon cheesecake while he waited.

* * *

Hours later, the lemon cheesecake was finished, and Garfakcy had started on a three-course dinner out of boredom. When that was finished and Kharl still hadn't come out, Garfakcy decided to check on him. Kharl had been known to disappear for hours at a time while working on projects, but he'd never been gone this long before.

Garfakcy listened at the door for a moment. When he heard no loud crashing sounds, he determined it was safe, and knocked.

"Come in, Garfakcy!" He opened the door and looked around curiously. Sinistora was lying on the floor, surrounded by piles of books and toppled chairs and old experiments. Kharl was sitting on a stack of displaced cushions.

"Well, what do you think?" Garfakcy thought it was a mess, but then he realized Kharl wasn't talking about the room. He looked up, past Kharl, to the huge glass cylinder that stretched from the floor to the ceiling behind him. Something floated inside it. Something with dark hair. Garfakcy stepped closer and put one hand to the glass, examining the still figure. He recognized it immediately… after all, he remembered Rath pretty darn well.

"He's not going to be too happy when he wakes up," Garfakcy said.

"True," Kharl replied, "but I can deal with that." Garfakcy glanced at Kharl. When he turned back to the glass cylinder, Rath's eyes were open.

* * *

Rath floated in darkness for a long time. He wasn't sure how long exactly. It was hard to keep track of time when there was no day or night. He didn't really care anyway. Time didn't matter. Nothing much mattered here.

He had a vague feeling there was something he was forgetting. Even the blissful weightlessness of the shadows couldn't completely dispel that fear. It tugged at his conscious continually, filling him with vague worries. He tossed fitfully in the arms of the darkness. Something he was forgetting… something he was trying hard to forget… No… not something, some_one_… who had helped him. Someone he wanted to go back to.

No! He didn't want to go back! Not to that hell. Even now he could feel the chains that had bound him. An amulet. A body. For the most part, they had loosened and sloughed off. All except one little silver chain that still held fast around his heart. The memory of a girl.

_No_! Darn it all! He didn't care! So why did he want to know? He screamed the frustrated scream of a soul that knew no peace.

Was he cursed? Was he never to be truly free? Even here, where he should have been beyond the constricting grasp of pain and despair—away from the endless agony of living? It was true then… he could never escape.

Suddenly he was filled with a heaviness he recognized all too well. The heaviness of a body. Shadowy restraints wrapped around him. A new set of chains. They were pulling him away from the sweet oblivion he'd known so briefly. Rath thrashed against them.

No! _No_, blast it all! He didn't want to go back!

It was no use. He was being wrapped up tighter even as he struggled. Wrapped up in a cocoon of silk—the unbreakable velvet darkness. The memories he'd tried so hard to forget came rushing back. He screamed again. This time with the pain of remembering… everything that had happened… everything he'd been.

The darkness congealed until it became barriers of flesh and bone. Barriers that restrained him as effectively as manacles, keeping him trapped in reality. Trapped in the constant pain of remembering.

Rath fought them. He tried again and again to pull himself free. He threw himself against them with all his might, until his soul was sore trying. He vaguely realized there was something different about this body. It wasn't like his last one. It fit better somehow. Almost like it had been made specifically for him. But it was still a cage. And he still wanted out!

He opened his eyes, ready to give whoever had brought him back a piece of his mind.

* * *

Garfakcy barely managed to jump out of the way as Rath's fist cracked the glass. The cylinder shattered, and a flood of water and glass swamped the room. Garfakcy landed on his butt next to Sinistora. The demon dog shook its fur happily, spraying Garfakcy with drops of water. Kharl didn't seem phased at all. He leaned forward, staring intently at the black-haired figure across the room.

* * *

In the aftermath of the little tsunami, Rath knelt on hands and knees in the bottom of the cylinder. Water dripped from his dark hair and ran down his arms. Raggedly sharp, glass splinters jutted up from the broken base like a ring of ensnaring daggers. Each reflected its own uniquely broken image of Rath—one seemed to dislocate his arm, another to split his body in three, and yet another fragmented his face into hundreds of pieces. Just like his soul. And the pieces of his life. And when he looked up to lock gazes with Kharl, the hundreds of reflections only mirrored him from the neck down, as though his head had been cut off.

"Why did you bring me back?" Rath's voice was thick with the rage that now seared his soul. He trembled with the force of it. "Why, blast you! I didn't want to come back!" He stood up, and the glass shards in the water cut into his bare feet. But his soul hurt too much to notice it.

"I only wanted you to be happy," Kharl whispered.

"No! Don't you lie to me! You did this for yourself!" Rath realized he was naked. He broke off one of the splinters of glass. It split the palm of his hand open where he gripped it, so that a little rivulet of blood snaked down its edge and dripped steadily from its tip into the water.

"Stop it, Rath." Kharl started to reach out, as though he could stop the blood or keep Rath from hurting himself further, but he halted when Rath flinched away.

"Leave me alone!" Rath lunged forward, the glass sword gripped tightly in his hand. Kharl simply deflected it, and Rath found himself breathing in a lungful of ash. He tried to turn around, and with growing alarm, realized he couldn't. He was paralyzed.

"I can't have you tearing that body apart." Kharl reached out to him. "Come back to me." Rath was having trouble thinking. He tried to take a step forward, but his legs responded sluggishly. He stumbled, and Kharl caught him, clutching him tightly. "I didn't want it to be like this."

Rath's mind was swimming, his vision clouded over. His soul screamed at the injustice. He didn't want to be here. He would have torn this new body to tatters if he could have—and his soul, too, just to end it all. But he could barely support himself. His legs gave out, and he crumpled in Kharl's grasp, hands scrambling to hold himself up. They tangled in Kharl's cloak. He was shaking. He realized that suddenly. Kharl held him tighter.

Acidic memories ate away at the back of his mind. "It hurts…" he gasped. Memories of killing, of ripping, of tearing. He couldn't escape from them!

Blood… blood everywhere…

It was a struggle to stay conscious. Kharl looked into wide crimson eyes… begging… pleading… _End it_.

"It won't hurt anymore," he whispered. He clasped Rath's hand. "I promise." Rath stared at his hand uncomprehendingly for a second. Then his hold went limp. His eyes slid shut. "It won't hurt ever again."

Clutching Rath with one hand, Kharl unfastened his cloak, wrapped it gently around Rath's body, and bundled the boy into his arms.

Garfakcy sloshed through the water to Kharl's side. "What a mess." He stared around at all the water and wet books and bits of glass. Then he noticed the red stain spreading across Kharl's white cloak. Kharl still hadn't moved. He was staring at Rath's head resting trustingly against his chest. "Kharl," Garfakcy prompted, "he's bleeding all over the place." That seemed to snap Kharl out of his daze.

"We have to hurry." He shifted Rath in his arms. "Rath will wake up soon. Garfakcy, go get bandages."

* * *

Rath broke groggily from the darkness when something was pressed to his lips. A glass, he realized.

"Rath, I need you to drink this." Rath twisted his head away, wanting the half-dispersed darkness to take him again.

"Come on, Rath." The cup was placed to his lips again. He could tell they weren't going to give up.

"_Fine_," he thought, still only half-conscious, "_if it'll make them leave me alone_." He drank it—swallowing as it was poured into his mouth. Surprisingly, it seemed to bring the darkness back faster. He drifted from reality.

* * *

Kharl sat on the couch, running his fingers through Rath's black hair. Rath lay with his head and shoulders on Kharl's lap, still enfolded in Kharl's cloak. One pale hand rested awkwardly in clinically white bandages. Kharl had placed a healing spell on it, but not before a bloody rose had soaked through the bandage. It bothered him somehow to see it there, as though the blood were a testament of his personal failure. An empty glass sat inconspicuously on a nearby end table. The afternoon sun flooded in through a long bank of windows.

Kharl glanced at the empty glass. He'd hoped for so long that Rath would come back to him. Sometimes, during that moment in the morning when he was awake and still dreaming, he knew he would get up and Rath would be waiting for him—that he could open the door and Rath would be standing in the hall, smiling that smile and laughing at him…

But then he'd wake up…

And Rath wouldn't be there. And he'd feel the emptiness steal over his soul, drowning out all warmth, all light. And the world would become a desolate place, not worth living in.

At those times, he would have done almost anything to get Rath back. _Almost_ anything, because of course, he could've forced Rath to come back at any time. He had that power. It would have been simple to incapacitate the Dragon Clan, separate Rath, and take him away. Sometimes he could've kicked himself for _not_ taking him, for not at least trying. But then Rath would never have been able to forgive him. And for all his power, Kharl had been loathe to do something that would make Rath hate him.

Because of the memory of a smile…

His hand stilled in the fine strands of black hair. Yes, he could've taken Rath, but then he would've been forced to subdue Rath, to keep him from running away or killing everyone. Rath would've been a prisoner. And he would never have smiled like that… like nothing had ever happened… like he had never been a murderous monster… like Lykouleon had never found him… and erased his memories… and given him a home.

The thought of Lykouleon having Rath, even briefly, made Kharl want to tear the man apart! He clutched Rath closer to him, as though that alone would keep Lykouleon from repossessing him. Lykouleon couldn't have him! Kharl leaned closer to the still form lying complacently in his lap.

"You're mine," he whispered. "You belong with me." A second passed. Then another.

There was no reply. Black lashes lay like tattered lace along soft skin. Kharl realized his fingers had become pointed claws and forced himself to relax. Several minutes passed.

Finally, Rath's eyelashes fluttered open. He blinked lazily and looked around, taking in the room. A small scowl stole over his face. Kharl felt worry worm its way up inside him. Had he made a mistake?

"Rath…" He brushed Rath's cheek with the tips of his fingers. But the scowl didn't dissolve.

"Kharl?" With his bandaged right hand, Rath reached up, stopping uncertainly halfway in the air. "Kharl, I… I've done something… I can't remember… I've upset you…" Kharl caught Rath's hand.

"It doesn't matter. You're home now. You're safe."

"Yes, I'm… home." Rath couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. But he couldn't remember what it was. It didn't much matter anyway. Kharl was here and everything was obviously all right. He dismissed his worries out of hand. "So… when do we get to go demon hunting?"

* * *

**Okay, that's it. I don't know if there'll be anymore. There might be if enough people tell me they want more. I sort of have a plot figured out. But even if there _does_ end up being more, I can't promise when I'll get it up. I'm trying to finish up another story first. So if it's decent, let me know. Besides, now that I have Rath where I want him, I can enjoy torturing Kharl. So writing more might be fun. **


	2. The Mess of the Matter

Note: No Demon-Dogs were hurt in the making of this fanfic.

**Chapter 2**

The Mess of the Matter

Kharl felt the cold fingers of morning begin to slide around his consciousness. In his mind someone was calling him.

"Kharl." _He stretched and pushed the covers back. Sunlight streamed in through the cracks in the curtains. He pushed the curtains back and flooded the room with light._

"Kharl!"_ He knew who it was. Smiling blithely, he padded across the carpet and caught the door handle. Something tugged at him and the world blurred for a second before smoothing back out. He frowned. But he was still being called. _

"Khar-rl!" _He laughed. In his mind he could already picture Rath's smiling face._

"_Alright, I…" he flung the door open._

"Wake up!" Something heavy landed on top of him. This time everything blurred out permanently.

"Oof!" He jolted up to find Rath's face inches from his own, frowning in impatience.

"Can I have a sword?"

Having been jolted so suddenly out of his dream, it took Kharl a second to stop wondering where the fire was and focus on the question.

"Ugh. What time is it?"

"Early." Rath leaned closer. "Please, Kharl?"

"_What_?"

"A sword?"

He was still too groggy to think straight. "Fine. Go ask Garfakcy."

"Yeah!" Rath bounced off the bed and headed for the door. As Kharl watched him go, he felt just the slightest twinge of guilt. For a minute, he lay staring up at the ceiling, just bathing in the sunlight that poured over the bed. Rath was happy, he was home, it was everything Kharl had wanted. So why then…?

…_because it isn't_ real. Kharl tried immediately to banish the thought. Wasn't real? Of all the silly… Of _course_ it was real! Rath was here. Rath was real! Kharl could reach out and touch him, and Rath wouldn't dissolve away into imagined dreams. He'd be there—solid, tangible—in the flesh Kharl'd wrapped him in. Wasn't that _real_?

…_but he's not really _happy. _He just thinks he is_. Kharl rolled over, so that he was facing away from the sunlight. But he couldn't escape his own thoughts. And the truth stung long after it had been spoken.

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Garfakcy asked, as he watched Rath disappear through the castle's gate, sword held tightly. 

"We live on a dead continent," Kharl replied. "What's the worst he could do?"

"That's what I'm afraid of…"

* * *

The toe of Rath's boot barely broke the forest floor. The thick branches and undergrowth made a slight _slishing_ noise as he passed. Beside him, Sinistora's paws left little indentations in the earth. Silent as death, the demon-dog was no more than a whisper at his side. 

Rath pushed more thick branches out of his way. He'd been walking for what felt like forever and still he hadn't run across a single demon. In fact, he hadn't run across anything else, either… not a soul. So strange…

The sun shone down through the thick canopy of trees, dappling the dark forest with spots of light. Rath jumped down into a small depression and finally came to a stop. He was beginning to suspect that there weren't any demons nearby.

Sinistora's wet nose bumped questioningly against his palm, and suddenly the world seemed to stretch out, blurring away at the edges. His feet felt disconnected from his waist. He stumbled. This world, this dizziness… It felt _too_ real. He was suddenly struck by the familiarity of it all.

"I've been here before." The familiar weight of the sword at his side. The dog by his feet. "I've done this before."

And then he caught hold of a branch, steadying himself, and reality returned. And it felt fake. He looked around, confused, wondering what the heck had just happened. Then he looked down at himself. But nothing had changed. Well, except that Sinistora had caught the hem of his shirt in its mouth. Rath felt his unease melt away. That was right: he was demon hunting. And there weren't any demons. Looking down at Sinistora, a thought suddenly popped into his head.

"_You're_ a demon…"

* * *

Kharl firmly closed the book he'd been reading when he heard a loud commotion coming from the courtyard. Loud, frantic howls echoed down the length of the library. It sounded like Sinistora. Kharl had a moment to think that that wasn't right. They couldn't possibly have found a demon. So then… 

At that moment Garfakcy burst through the library doors.

"Kharl! Rath's trying to kill Sinistora!" The words took a second to sink in. Then Kharl was on his feet and halfway to the balcony before Garfakcy could blink. Sure enough, Sinistora was running in circles around the courtyard, followed by a sword-swinging Rath (if Kharl could understand demon-dog language, he'd be hearing something along the lines of, "Help! Somebody help me! There's a lunatic trying to kill me!").

"Ra-ath!"

* * *

It was Kharl's strangled shout that finally made Rath realize something was wrong. He stopped to look up at the balcony, knowing he was in trouble. 

And so, many words later…

Rath was so bored. _No killing Sinistora… _

He opened a door on the right, just to close it as a broom almost fell over on him.

No killing Right Bird… 

He opened another door and closed it on an empty room.

There weren't any other demons around! 

Another door… closed in the same fashion.

_So no demon hunting…_ there had to be _something_ else to do around the castle! And why'd Kharl have to take his sword?

Rath opened yet another door… and stopped. Eureka! The room was lined ceiling to floor with bottles containing strange green potions, tar-like liquids, silver sand, and every other kind of splendid substance imaginable.

"Whoa," Rath whispered. He walked in, looking around with wide eyes. So many different things to try! He pulled a small satchel full of some sort of dust off the shelf. It wasn't anything extraordinary. It just looked like dust. Rath took a pinch and stared at it, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.

On second thought, maybe it wasn't such a great discovery.

"I wish I had a demon to fight." He dumped the dust in his hand onto the floor, sighing in boredom. And that's when something finally happened.

A little demon resolved itself out of the dust, complete with squinty little eyes, yellowish skin, and a head of black hair. It only came to the top of Rath's leather boots. But no sooner had it materialized than it started leaping about on its spindly little legs, shaking its fist at Rath and chittering in some primitive demon language.

Delighted with this result, Rath quickly took another pinch of the dust. As it, too, resolved itself into another of the little demons, Rath laughed. Finally, demons to kill! But they were so small it was going to take a lot of them to be any sort of fun. A _lot_ of them… Grinning widely, he dumped out the rest of the dust…

* * *

The first Garfakcy suspected anything was wrong, he was scrubbing floors, when he heard a surprised yelp echo down the length of the corridor. He stopped to listen. Rath had better not have gotten into something again. There was silence for a while, just long enough for Garfakcy to frown in confusion and start to scrub again, before there was the pitter-patter of what sounded like many little feet on the stone floor. Garfakcy's frown deepened. What in Arinas? 

Suddenly, around the corner came a mob of little chittering demons, all with little loincloths and tiny spears. They swarmed down the corridor, carrying something that looked suspiciously like a bound and squirming Rath. Garfakcy gaped. What had that idiot _done_?

It was Rath's muffled cry of "Put me down!" that snapped him out of his stupor. Dropping the rag, he quickly created an Ash Sword and prepared himself to defend the corridor. As the first wave of demons crashed over him, he hacked away at the little monsters, right and left. Blood spattered across the stone and pooled into little sticky puddles.

"I just cleaned this floor!" he raged, and took out his anger on the demons. Little demon arms and legs went flying in the furor. But despite his best efforts, he was quickly surrounded. They crawled up his back and yanked on the long strands of his hair. They gnawed on his ankles. For every one he knocked off, two more took its place. Soon they had wrestled him to the ground by force of sheer numbers. The sword was pried from his grip in the melee and turned back into ash. They bound him, gagged him, and lifted him into the air on a thousand little hands, next to Rath.

* * *

Kharl had sequestered himself away in the library earlier that morning, after the incident with Sinistora. But he was beginning to get hungry, and realizing that Garfakcy hadn't come to announce dinner was ready, decided to investigate. It didn't occur to him that anything was wrong until he failed to find Garfakcy in the kitchen. Even then, some part of him figured Garfakcy had just gotten a little behind with the new arrival of Rath. Come to think of it, where was Rath? 

And so his search began, slowly at first, and then with increasing speed as his alarm grew. But it wasn't until he flung open the door to the main hall that he got the surprise of his life. Hundreds of little demons filled the large room. Several of the heathens were swinging from the chandelier. Some were beating out ancient rhythms on pots from the kitchen. Some were doing little Indian dances around makeshift campfires. Yet others were attempting to roast a whining Sinistora on a spit. And chained to the far wall were the two people Kharl had been looking for.

Both were covered in the splotchy paint of sacrificial symbols.

Garfakcy was gagged but still managing to glare daggers across the room. The effect was lessoned by the glob of blue paint drying across his forehead. Rath just looked depressed.

"Can I have my sword back _now_?" he whined.

Kharl was so relieved to find them alive and otherwise whole, he started laughing. Which, of course, did nothing to lighten Garfakcy's mood. He tried to shout through the gag, but it came out garbled as, "Msmr Mrl, moo smfing!" And it only caused Kharl to start laughing harder…

* * *

A couple days later, after Kharl had exterminated the entire castle, and then re-exterminated it, Garfakcy was woken up late at night by the sound of war songs emanating strangely from the wall. It didn't take him long to realize the demons had decided to stake it out and were thriving somewhere, deep out of sight. He couldn't believe it! He clasped the pillow over his head and tried to get back to sleep. But by the time the morning light seeped through his window, he was still glaring out from under his pillow, having long since begun plotting ways to make Rath pay. 

Rath, on the other hand, was overjoyed. Over the course of the next three days, it became a common sight to see Rath sitting in front of a wall with Sinistora, both staring intensely at some small demon-hole. But then, Rath didn't have any problems sleeping. And Kharl had simply plugged his ears with a spell.

As the days progressed, and there was no sign of the demons deserting their fortifications, Garfakcy became increasingly more irritable. He was often found stocking the halls, glaring at the demon-holes as though daring them to show themselves. Rath and Kharl took to actively avoiding him.

Even so, it wasn't until five days later that anything came of it.

Garfakcy woke up that morning just like all the mornings before—without having ever gone to sleep—and fortified himself with the thought of making breakfast. It was the only thing that helped him relax anymore: cooking. He padded down the hall, swung open the door… and stopped dead.

The kitchen had been decimated. The silverware was scattered everywhere, the knives stuck out of the floor at odd angles, the china plates smashed into thousands of pieces. One single demon stood on spindly legs on the counter top, arms full of what little food remained. Upon Garfakcy's entrance, the demon stuck its tongue out, made a very rude noise, and started to scamper away.

And that was when it happened.

Something inside Garfakcy snapped. A second later, he had a cleaver held tightly in his two hands high above his head, and was screaming wildly as he took off after the little demon. The demon, perhaps sensing something of what it had invoked, flew across the room, legs scrambling on the slippery floor, food forgotten. Garfakcy's cleaver hacked down again and again, each time just inches behind its mark. But his strides were much longer than the demons'. Just as his cleaver started to come down in what would surely be the finishing blow, the demon tripped, stumbled, and rolled drunkenly into the nearest hole. The cleaver came down on the wall milliseconds too late.

It was at this point Kharl decided to make an entrance to check on breakfast.

"Garfakcy, what're we having for…?" he swung the door open and trailed off.

"Pests!" _Clang._ "Vermin!" _Clang_. "Despicable demons!" _Clang._ "Come out and face me!" Garfakcy, cleaver in hand, was chopping away at the wall, eyes glinting madly. _Clang._ "Dogs!" _Clang, clang._ "You can't hide forever!"

"On second thought, I think I'll just come back later," Kharl said, and high-tailed it out of the room.

* * *

It wasn't until the loud clanging sounds completely subsided that Kharl and Rath decided it was safe to check the kitchen. Kharl pushed the door open a crack and peeked in. Nothing moved. Daring to believe it might be safe, he stepped in. Garfakcy was draped across a small pile of stone, covered in gray dust, and snoring loudly. Rath started toward him, but Kharl held him back. 

"Lets let him be. He needs the rest." Silently, the two slipped back outside, while Garfakcy's snores reverberated down the hall…

* * *

**WARNING: The following is NOT part of the actual story. It is a piece of random stupidity that came to me while writing. Read at your own risk.**

**Rath Moments #1:**

After days of being woken up at 1 in the morning by Rath, begging to let him go to Kainaldia, Kharl finally relents. Once there, Rath disappears for a while. Kharl starts to panic, wondering if something happened. But soon enough he sees Rath coming towards him, smiling widely and whistling. Kharl is so relieved, it takes him a second to realize Nadil's head is swinging by its hair from Rath's grip.

"Kharl!" Rath shouts joyfully. "Look what _I_ found!"

_Sweatdrop._

* * *

**Dear Readers, **

**First of all: if there's a pairing in this, it's RathxCesia. Though I can guarantee that won't happen for a while. **

**Also: Compared to the solemnity of the first chapter, this chapter was very, well, _not_ solemn. Personally, I liked the first chapter better, but I want to know what you think. Was this chapter better or worse? The next chapter will definitely be a lot more like the first. Oh, and fair warning. This will probably NOT be updated quickly. I apologize for that, too. **

**-Leeayre**

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* * *

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**Review Responses: **

**To anonymous: Me too! Course, I just like Rath period. And he's a fun character to work with. I look forward to hearing from you again. Let me know what you think! **

**To xxDKGurlxx: Looks like I have to finish it now. (smiles) But I'm excited about it, especially about the end. So I hope you like it! **

**To Sarehptar: Well, it's done. Chapter 2 at least. (sigh of relief) I really don't know what to think about it. I feel like this was some poor attempt to be humorous that failed miserably. So I'm really glad chapter 3 is like chapter 1. What'd'ya think? **

**To melodyrain: That's what I assumed at first, too. But then I talked to Sarehptar, and she showed me an alternate side to it. It could be that just as Kharl feels for his birds, he feels the same way towards Rath, except extremely more so. Probably because Rath would have been the epitome of his creations, and then to have had Rath taken from him. It would have been tough. Especially if Kharl had some sort of emotional involvement with Rath's creation. (See Cloaks, by Sarehptar, Chapter 13) In that respect, Kharl probably sees Rath as something like a son. At least, that's what I'm basing this story on. (sheepish grin) Although, the line _is_ pretty thin. And thank you. I really enjoyed reading your review! And please review again! (hopeful puppy-dog eyes)**


	3. The NonSound

Note: I'm sorry this is short, but it's because there's a Huge deleted scene. Speaking of which, Storm'sEye gets a cookie for error-handling (I should say "humor-handling") this. In sickness and in health even. She's an angel. Really. Also, Sarehptar gets a cookie for helping me with a word. By random English-y agreement we have decided that "Arinas" becomes "Arinain" when talking about parts of it. (ie: Arinain sky) 

**Chapter 3 **

The Non-Sound

In the pre-dawn darkness that had fallen across the room, the curtains whispered worriedly to the figure wrapped tightly in twisted sheets on the bed. He jerked suddenly. Lips moved. Whispered fretting words the curtains couldn't hear—words for nameless fears. He shook his head, troubled. And suddenly he was twisting violently against the constricting sheets. Hands reached out, pleadingly. But he couldn't escape _these_ fears. They clawed at him with twisted nails. Until finally, he toppled over the edge of the bed, and the sheet's long claws released him.

"Rath!" He jerked upright, chest heaving, and stared around the room, eyes still wide with phantom worries. It was a dream? No, it couldn't be…

Rath! Rath was in trouble!

The room's shadows were empty, lying flat and lifeless where they'd fallen; but the shadows in Kharl's mind were still very much alive. Consumed by sudden panic, he shredded the entangling sheets in his haste to get up and race out of the room. A thousand scenarios played across his mind. Rath was gone… Rath had killed himself… Rath had remembered… Rath had been found… Rath was being attacked… Rath was…

Here he flung open wide the doors to Rath's room, and stood there, chest heaving, framed in the open doorway.

Rath was… safe.

Such a flood of relief swamped him then, upon seeing the black-haired boy lying peacefully among the blankets, that he fell to his knees, shaking, still clutching the door handle in one white-knuckled hand. It was… okay. What had happened back _then_… wouldn't… no, it _couldn't_ happen again.

Slowly, he forced himself to relax, and went and knelt down beside the bed, so that he could watch Rath's chest rise and fall and know that he was alive.

The fading panic he felt surprised him. He'd thought himself long past these fears, but having Rath here… It was like reliving it all over again. The whole bloody thing. But knowing now how it would end. Knowing what was coming. It was worse than any hell could ever be.

And yet, initially, things had gone so well…

In the handful of days since Rath's induction into their midst, he'd slipped… well, not exactly _smoothly_ into the fabric of their lives. In fact, he'd been more a force of constant upheaval and mayhem. But if Rath's demon-hunting antics often threw the castle into chaos, at least it was a welcome relief from the monotony of the gray, Arinain sky. Garfakcy had accepted Rath's presence in the castle after the Indian Demon Incident as a sort of extermination force. He'd practically chained Rath to the kitchen to keep the demons away. Or maybe it was just Garfakcy's way of keeping the boy occupied and out of further trouble. Whatever the case, Rath didn't mind one bit. And Sinistora had finally gotten over the indignity of having had a run-in with his sword, and was now helping him merrily chase the demon-pests all over the castle. Kharl couldn't tell which of them was enjoying it more. All in all, things had settled down and at last fallen into a new routine. One in which the randomly shouted "RAAAAATH!" loud enough to shake the windows on the opposite end of the castle was an ordinary occurrence.

Rath made some small, worrisome movement, and Kharl looked up from the corner of sheet he'd been staring at.

"_What are you dreaming about?"_ he wondered. "_Are you remembering, too? In your dreams, do you relive that day? The one your waking mind has banished from memory?_ _I failed you then. I couldn't protect you. But I won't lose you again. Never again."_ Kharl's soul burned with his conviction. They were together again, like they were supposed to be. Nothing would tear that apart. Rath jerked again and frowned in his sleep.

"_A dream? Or a nightmare?"_ Kharl watched quietly, worriedly, as Rath thrashed. Finally, he could not stand it anymore. He reached out and touched Rath's forehead, and buried the dream. "_You don't need to go through this again, Rath. Let it go." _

Almost instantly, Rath lapsed back into dreamless sleep. Kharl watched him a moment more, and then turned to leave.

He never heard the soft cry behind him…

* * *

_RrrrsssTthh. A sound. In the darkness. Like the whisper of death. Like the nothingness that precedes thunder. A non-sound. _

_And the stillness shuddered. Softly at first, as though shaking off some sudden chill. Then again, with the first ripples of unease. And then harder, as unease solidified into cold certainty with the chilling caress of a long-dormant power. One utterly focused on destroying anything in its way. _

_Again and again—the tremors came faster as the power grew more intense. And the non-sound grew with it, as though the thing were trying desperately to force words from the nothingness. Until the non-sound reached an intensity beyond endurance. Until the stillness was heaving and roiling, crushed by the intense weight of its assailant's will. An assailant it could not hope to silence. _

_Until finally, horror of horrors, the non-sound spoke. _

"_Ra-a-a-ath." The voice cut jaggedly through the last shreds of the silence. Its sharp edges were ragged, rusted. And it crackled with the sticky sound of blood. _

_Hidden by a thin wall of concealing shadows, Rath twisted uneasily. The non-sound seemed to grate against the substance of his being, as though it had physical power. As though the mere nothingness of it could inflict pain. He hadn't noticed it so much before, in the painful pleasure of dreams, where reality and thought became one. Where even half-formed memories had no lasting substance, and the pain of them was dulled by the layers of infinite possibilities. He had cried out as his dreams were taken from him; the sudden absence of other realities had made him more acutely aware of the nothingness of dreamless slumber. Of the voice that was not a voice calling his name. Stripped of his only defense, he waited, watched, wondering when it would find him. Knowing it would. Feeling the pain of the ever-continuing cadence of the non-sound. For though the voice called, it was the non-sound behind it that caused the pain. As though there was something in it, some meaning perhaps, that was significant. It held some sort of power over him. _

"_Ra-a-a-ath." The voice crackled again. Closer this time. Searching. It knew he was there. How long until it found him? He waited, feeling the reverberations of the non-sound grate against him. Again and again it called. Always a little closer. Until finally, he felt the weight of its focus center of him—felt the moment it realized it had found him. Their gazes locked for a moment, the distance between them narrowing to nothing. And Rath felt all his defenses strip away. This thing knew him… all of him… entirely. He might as well have been naked before it. And then he saw the thing begin to speak, and he knew nothing could protect him from the blow he was about to take. He prepared for the assault, for the pain that would follow, felt the first vibrations of the non-sound, and… _

_Thwunk! _

"Ouch!" It took him a second to figure out why he was sprawled out on the floor. A dream? But it felt so real…

For a moment, he lay there, letting the feel of the scratchy rug scrub away the clinging residue of the dream. This roughness, this coarseness beneath his hands, against his cheek, catching in his hair, was the reality. Not the empty echoing of the nothingness. Not the corrosive touch of the non-sound. And especially not _that_, that _thing_, whatever it was, that had found him. It couldn't touch him here. It couldn't grate against his hand. And it certainly couldn't catch in the black strands of his hair. So it couldn't be real. It just couldn't be.

**(—)**

He got to his feet slowly, and stood in the suddenly appalling grandeur of his desecrated room. The hulking shapes of wardrobes and dressers, the walls, even the air seemed thick and oppressive. Shadows that had once been friendly now watched him with narrow eyes. He wrapped his arms around himself, not wanting them to touch him. But they were all around him. Pressing in—breaths like chill wafts against his bare arms. He stood there, trying to stare down all the shadows at the same time, eyes darting back and forth after imagined movement. Until everything seemed to close in on him, and he found that he was suffocating.

He ran, bare feet padding against the rug, down the hall, finally darting into Kharl's room, where a more friendly darkness waited to embrace him. The door closed with a soft thud. Rath pressed his back rigidly against it, hoping that thud had sealed out the presence of his own room, not daring to believe it had. For a few moments he stood there, half-panting with the last dredges of panic. Then he padded softly over to the bed, paused apprehensively, and finally curled up in a ball next to the silent figure who lay there.

* * *

Kharl hadn't completely managed to get back to sleep anyway. He had been too worried. So he'd heard the padded footsteps a ways off—had heard the door open and close. But by then he'd known who it was—had known it was okay. From the warmth of the covers, he'd watched Rath through slitted eyes. Worried. It surprised him that the boy chose to lay down, but somehow it comforted him to know Rath was beside him and safe. Slowly, he reached over and wrapped one arm around the shivering boy. The shivering stopped. A moment passed. Then, quietly… 

"Kharl?"

"Hmmm?"

"May I stay here tonight?"

"Mmm."

"Thank you."

With Rath's warmth beside him, Kharl let himself fall into contended sleep. Maybe a little too contented, for he never felt it when Rath slipped silently out of his arms. And the next morning, he was gone…

* * *

(—)** Small explanation first: In the last two weeks, I wrote this chapter with an ending that turned out _too_ good, moved the entire end to ch. 5, re-wrote the end with a really bad attempt at humor, deleted that, and then wrote what's there now. I'm drained, I'm tired, I'm exhausted, and I just don't care anymore. (if you hear any odd noises in the background, that's me banging my head against a wall) So because I worked so hard to write this section, because taking it out meant erasing HALF of this chapter, and because Storm'sEye worked so hard to fix it, I'm giving it to you below as a deleted scene. So without any further ado, may I present:**

**"What Really Happened…"**

He started to sit up, and for just a moment his eyes were equal with the darkness under his bed… with the two beady eyes staring out at him. They both froze, each just as surprised as the other. Long enough for Rath to recognize the little loincloth and spindly legs, and take in the long, heavy sword it was dragging away under the bed. His eyes widened. Sword!

"AAUGH!" With a shout that rattled the glass in the windows, Rath dove under the bed after it… and promptly stuck tight. He grasped at handfuls of rug, trying to pull himself further forward towards the demon that was just out of reach, and only managed to get wedged tighter. The demon scurried frantically out the other side, still lugging the sword. Rath tried to jerk back, and only then realized how tightly he was pinned. With increasing alarm, he twisted and pushed, all to no avail. He was stuck.

* * *

Kharl paused in the hallway outside the bedroom. For the first time he realized how quiet everything was. In his earlier panic he hadn't noticed it. And somehow, it gave him the strangest feeling he was forgetting something. That was odd… but not unduly so. After all, being devoid of life, Arinas was a pretty quiet place. Still, it gave him the sudden urge to check on Rath again, even though he'd just done so. He opened the wide doors for the second time that night, if just to prove to himself that nothing was amiss… and imagine his surprise at finding Rath not only on the floor, but half sticking out from under the bed.

* * *

About the time Rath was beginning to really worry, the bed was suddenly lifted up a couple feet off the ground, and Kharl's face peered down at him. Feeling exceedingly sheepish, he hurried to sit up and succeeded in hitting his head on the metal frame of the bed. 

"OUCH!" Cursing up and down and rubbing his head, he got to his feet.

* * *

"What in Arinas are you doing?" Kharl watched Rath with growing amusement. Until Rath turned to him and began to speak… and didn't make a sound. Kharl stared at him, trying to make words form out of the silence. But there was nothing. Not even a peep. His shock and horror seeped slowly into his expression until Rath stopped. Kharl grabbed him by the shoulders. 

"RATH!" he burst out. "You're MUTE!"

* * *

For a moment Rath could only gape**—**he'd been trying to explain about the little demon and the sword. 

"_What_?" But at that point he was distracted by a strange sound…

_Clang!_ Scrabble, scrabble, scrabble. _Clang!_ Scrabble, scrabble, scrabble. _Clang!_ The little demon had tried to drag the sword, blade-first, into a recently excavated demon-hole. And it would have succeeded, if it weren't that the hand-guard was so much obviously bigger than the hole. In its frantic flight, the demon hadn't yet figured this out. So it kept trying to drag the sword in, only to rebound slightly as the hand-guard hit the wall with a deafening _Clang!_

With a shout, Rath started after it, only to be brought up short by Kharl, who was completely oblivious to demon and wasn't about to let a seemingly mute Rath escape. "You're coming with me. I want to examine you."

"NO!" Rath tried desperately to break Kharl's hold. The sword! It was so close! But even as he struggled to go forward, he was being dragged backward. In desperation, he grabbed hold of one of the bedposts, and for a moment it became a tug-of-war between Kharl, Rath, and the bed.

"Rath! Stop this! This is pointless! It'll only take me a sec!"

"NOOO! The SWORD! GET the SWORD!" He dug his nails into the wood. The bed started to slide across the floor. "KHAR-RL!"

Oblivious to Rath's cries, Kharl continued to pull. "Rath, let GO!"

"NOOOOO!"

* * *

Garfakcy couldn't ignore the shouting any longer. Irked at having lost yet another night's sleep and half-wondering if Rath had gone insane, he got up and opened the door… and watched as Kharl dragged a screaming Rath down the hall, bed and all. 

"I'M NOT MUTE! I'M NOT MUTE, ALREADY!"

He raised one eyebrow.

"GARFAKCY, DO SOMETHING! TELL HIM I'M NOT MUTE! HE-ELP! GAAAR-FAAAAK-CYYY!"

Yep, it was another ordinary morning in Kharl's castle. Garfakcy closed the door. He just couldn't handle something like this right now. Let Rath deal with it…

* * *

Unfortunately, Rath was about as far from dealing with it as it was possible to be. The bed had finally jammed in the doorway at the end of the hall. And Rath was still holding onto it for life, limb, and the pursuit of demons. Maybe he was holding on a little too well. 

With one final almighty heave from Kharl, a resounding "_crack!"_ split the air and the bedpost broke off. Both of them went flying. Rath, bug-eyed, clawed frantically at the air in an attempt to reach the bed even while he was flying backward. To no avail.

_Thud! _

That would be the sound of Kharl hitting the floor.

_Thwump!_

That would be the sound of Rath hitting Kharl.

_Whack!_

That would be the sound of the bedpost hitting them both.

…

Two massive concussions later, Kharl woke up to the brilliant realization that his head hurt like crazy. To make matters worse, several of the spells around the castle had been dropped while he was unconscious. It was going to be one of those nights. He started to sit up, holding one hand to his temple, and only then realized that there was something on top of him.

"Uuuugggh." That was a half-conscious Rath. And Kharl realized two more things simultaneously. The first was that Rath was sprawled out in concussed semi-consciousness across his lap. The second was that Rath could speak. And things finally clicked together. The demons, the spell he'd cast to mute noise at night, why everything had seemed so quiet…

"RATH!" Kharl threw his arms around the younger boy, hugging him enthusiastically. "I'm so glad you're not mute!" And that's what forcefully woke Rath up.

"Khar-rl!" he choked. "I can't… _gasp_… breathe!"

"Oh!" Kharl released him, whereupon Rath's mind cleared quickly. He sat bolt upright.

"THE SWORD!" He hurriedly scrambled off Kharl and through the door, taking the bed in a flying leap and leaving Kharl to stare after him.

He reached his room, only to find the demon had taken off, sword and all. But about the time he was seriously thinking of being depressed, there was a scream from down the hall that sounded a lot like Garfakcy.

* * *

"AAUUUGGH!" It was safe to say Garfakcy had realized there was a demon in his room. A demon with a weapon even. And the last thing he needed was the little squirts getting ideas of armies or war. 

"Aauuuggh!" It was safe to say the demon had realized there was a human in the room. A particularly horrid looking human in his nightclothes.

The demon ran for his life. Garfakcy ran for his sanity. And by the time Rath got there, they were both chasing each other around the room in frenzied circles. Rath couldn't tell who was chasing who. If Garfakcy was trying to kill the demon, he was going about it all wrong, but Rath was too happy to care. He was just glad Garfakcy had found his sword. He tackled the demon in a flying leap, wrestled his sword from it (he was even too happy to kill it), grabbed a startled Garfakcy by the shoulders and proclaimed loudly, "Garfakcy! I love you!" Then he skipped merrily off through the door, holding his sword and singing, leaving Garfakcy to fall to the floor with a look of absolute terror on his face…

* * *

**Dear Readers, **

**First, I _so _deserve many reviews and much clapping. I just totally mushed my brain out trying to catch Kharl's randomly stupid side and then having to take it out anyway, and trying to finish this before I lose all computer access for a month, otherwise you would have been waiting 'till January. It didn't help that I tried to update _three_ stories or that I wrote the equivalent of _two_ chapters in under two weeks, but for sections you won't get for a while. And I'm really upset because everything I liked the most in this chapter got taken out and put in 5. (screams) Good news: I now love chapter 5, and chapter 6 (in my opinion) is even better. And chapter 4 finally seems doable. Yes! **

**So for those of you who hate my strange humor, please be patient and wait for 5. It's awesome! I swear! For those of you who like/don't mind the humor, it's possible that there will be more random odd moments of it (on the basis that I can get it to work). And thanks to everyone who at least reviewed to let me know what they thought. And I'm debating about whether or not to work with Thatz in the next chapter. Heh heh. Thatz (running into the room and latching onto Rune): "Rune! I'm hearing dead people!" Rune: "You mean you weren't before?" It might be fun, but it might not work out. We shall see… **

**Also, I write fanfiction for one primary reason: to learn how to write better. I want to know what people like and what they don't like. So…**

**Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find something wrong with this fic. Tell me what failed miserably. Tell me if I missed a comma! Tell me if I misspelled a word! Just don't tell me I have fragments. I know. Although, if you really find anything like that, I will flip out, because I'm paid for knowing my grammar (English tutor! It is the most awesome job…). So heaven forbid you find a grammar error, LET ME KNOW IMMEDIATELY! That said, what I'm really hoping for is content correction. "I thought this was really stupid because…" "This totally didn't make sense…" "That just wasn't funny…" I really want to know what makes you like a story, and what makes you decide it sucks. (suddenly claps hands together in prayer pose) And please, please, PLEASE also tell me what lines exactly made you laugh (if any) and what you liked. Otherwise I'll go into depression and bawl my eyes out. (chokes) I worked so hard… **

**-Leeayre**

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**Review Responses: **

**To Sarehptar: When I'm doing strange scenes like this, where I've got Kharl, Rath, and a bed together, I can totally see how people think this is yaoi. Heck, I guess everyone's welcome to their opinion. But it's nice to know I've got protection! And someone who looks at it the same way I do… I'm so sorry about not getting back to you before now. I've been _swamped_. Last week I was scurrying to finish up a flurry of final projects, and finish this, and finish my other two stories, and then study for the four finals I have this week. It didn't help that my humor-handler got sick, which forced me to make some quick decisions resulting in the subsequent deletion of the majority of this chapter. I actually like it better this way. I'm surprised. I was very unhappy with the pointlessness and even stupidity of the original ending. I wish I could have maintained the humor, but it was more important to me that this chapter be well-written. Probably as a way to make up for 2. So now that I feel decently about it, feel free to knock it to your heart's content. And… with this new ending I have a beginning place for 4. Phew… Psst. Does Kharl's castle have carpet? 0,0 We thought "well, gee, he _is_ an alchemist, he could probably make anything he wanted, but do castles have carpet?" After much debate, we decided on area rugs instead, just to be on the safe side… You know, I'm so very glad you review. I love reading them! They make me want to go and write more! **

**To Random Irony: Ah, yes. Arinas having no life… So if I ever say "birds chirping" or something, whack me, alright? It makes it really hard for poor Rath to find demons, though. And I totally agree. I also agree with Shiro Ryuu. I write better angst. I'm just better at it, period. But if I don't do some kind of comic relief, this would get seriously depressing. Both for me to write and for you to read. So I was going to try and do these chapters a little on the light-hearted side before you get to see Dark Leeayre in action in 5 and 6. (and my teachers wonder why a perfectly happy, finds-joy-in-everything sort of girl writes essays about drowning and dying and suicide) If only I'd managed to make it work! Ugh! And I'm _really_ glad you said something about the humor, otherwise I might not have tried it again. Let's face it, there's just so much fun stuff to do with Kharl and Rath together! (whistles) Kharl makes demons, Rath kills them. Watching Kharl try and deal with this is fun. And then there's Kharl's whole tendency to do randomly stupid things, which very few fics catch. They tend to do him one way or the other: either extremely serious or extremely stupid. But man is his personality hard to get right. As Shiro Ryuu said: "Kharl's mind just doesn't work quite like other people's." **

**To phoebechan: If you don't mind me asking, are you not from America? Something about how you wrote made think you weren't. And if so, that's totally cool! Learning a second language is so hard. I'm trying to learn Japanese, but I'm already up to my ears and sinking fast! I really admire the fact that you not only know English, but know it well enough to read something like fanfiction, which ranges anywhere from really bad English, to really advanced English. And it's really nice to meet you! So what do you think of this chapter? **

**To Shiro Ryuu: Dragon Castle? Did I translate that right? That's awesome! And why does that sound so familiar? (checks profile) Ah! You're one of the authors I was told was so good! And you are. (smiles) You have a very gripping writing style. (has fits of ecstasy because Shiro Ryuu reviewed) It's a pity you only write yaoi , because… (Don't hate me!) I won't review, respond, or encourage yaoi. And that's me for you. But I like you a lot! (holds out hand) It's nice to meet you! I loved your "How to tell if you're a writer" section (I chuckled like crazy), but I think you missed one… "-If, when talking to yourself, you randomly run into or attempt to go through solid objects that just "appeared out of nowhere." (i.e. doors, walls, telephone polls/ streetlights)" …And definitely. I'll whole-heartedly agree on the writing angst better thing. On the other hand, I really wish I'd managed to make the humor work, because I also agree with Random Irony. Pure angst can get really depressing, and after awhile it becomes a real chore to read. (sighs) Some kind of comic relief would have been nice… But if you want to see the _real_ Dark Leeayre in action, wait for 5 and 6 (and maybe 7). Insta-Demons! Ha! Oh, I like that! Yes, you're not the only one who was upset over the lack of Kharl/Rath. However, I would have lost people if I had done it too, including myself. And then you wouldn't have had an author. And it would have made it extremely hard to finish the story. I've gotten about as close to that line with this as I'm ever gonna get. And yes, there are more strange scenes coming where Kharl and Rath are close. But in the end Rath obviously has to get his memories back (I'm _sooo_ not leaving him like this, it'd just be unfair) and then I'm gonna have to deal with the whole, "You did _WHAT_ to me?!" (has headache imagining it) My friend pointed out (though I already knew) that it was mainly because I had Kharl playing with Rath's hair. Nor did it help that I had Rath naked. And now I even had them in the same bed! (cries) I'm a girl! What can I say? I was playing the part of Kharl and indulging in girlish fantasies! (turns red) I'm just gonna go now. Bye, bye! … P.S: You should read Cloaks! **


	4. Trust

Can anyone catch the Hamlet reference?

Special thanks to those who put extra effort into getting me on this. Namely, **Firehedgehog**, **Sarehptar**, **Shiro** **Ryuu**, **Dark** **Angel** **Rath**, and **Distorted Gaze**. I love ya'll! And I'm sorry. I just got so into my newest beta-reading I forgot I even had stories of my own. Eh heh heh…

**Chapter 4**

Trust

**Trust's the sound of silent screams—**

**The feel of blistered, broken dreams. **

**When daylight dies and all is dark, **

**It's a knife's swift, savage arc—**

**Then the final burning heat**

**And trampled under trust's deft feet**

**Hope crumbles slowly into dust.**

**Oh, the rancid taste of trust!**

Kharl couldn't believe how stupid he'd been. He'd let himself get careless. Reckless. Foolish. _Stupid_. He berated himself. How could he have let this happen? He'd known the boy had a penchant for curiosity. Had known something had been wrong last night. Why hadn't he been more careful?

Blast, blast, blast! Rath could be anywhere!

Kharl had woken up that morning strangely disquieted. It had taken him a few minutes of fitful tossing to figure out why. It was the cold. The cold absence of another presence… He had sat bolt upright. And he'd known. Somehow he'd known…

Now he paced agitatedly across the small room—the scene of the crime. Sunlight glittered off the sharp shards of shattered glass bottles like little flames along the floor. Some kind of green ooze dripped slowly from the shelves that lined the walls. And there were dead butterflies everywhere. The soft soles of Kharl's shoes muted the clipped footsteps he was too worried to silence. Neglectful. Normally he wouldn't have been so careless. But normally he didn't have bits of multicolored dusts strewn about his floor, dusts he knew the purpose of very well, thank you very much—had Rath? And normally he couldn't feel the lingering disturbance of a portal, or this strangely uncomfortable tightness through his chest.

His thoughts now came with the _slishing_ of his soles against the stone. What if Nadil had found him? _Slish_. Or worse, Lykouleon? _Slish_. Perhaps he should have spent more time with the boy. _Slish_. Perhaps he should have tried to find out what was wrong. _Slish_. Perhaps he should have done something about this room the first time it had caused problems. But what did he have to do? Install Rath safety locks? _Slish_, _slish, slish_.

He came to a sudden stop with the realization that his pacing had kicked up clouds of dust, which had settled over his fair hair and bare shoulders in a rainbow-colored sheen of blue and red and green. He tried to brush it off and ended up staring in horror at the gritty gray smear that now stained his fingers. And he knew what he had to do.

Finding Rath would take awhile. But he didn't have to know where the boy was to cast a spell on him. So first things first: some way to shield him from the senses of people like Lykouleon and Nadil and their cronies. Once Rath was safely shielded, then he could figure out where he was…

* * *

_Earlier_… 

There was something _safe_ about the silken shadows between Kharl's sheets. They seemed to embrace him. To welcome him. And if he pulled the covers completely over his head, they seemed to wrap around him tenderly, encasing him in a little black cocoon. He curled up inside it, knowing that, between the comforting weight and warmth of Kharl's embrace and the ring of shielding shadows, he was well protected. And somehow, if he focused really hard, he thought he could feel the soft down of feathers against his back.

But nothing—not the warmth, nor the silk, nor the safety—could make him forget the dream. He shuddered under the corrosive kiss of its memory. Nothing, _nothing_ could make him forget. It might not have caused him any more fear—Kharl wouldn't let it—but neither would it allow him to know the peace of sleep. So he stared out through the cracks above him in the little cocoon—the places where the blankets didn't quite lay flat, letting in soft streams of light—and watched the shadows move across the room. They seemed to hesitate for long periods of time in front of the desk; perhaps taking the time to examine the little ornate glass bottles lined up along the shelf, or the intricate engravings of laurel leaves in the mahogany framework. But eventually they moved on, slipping silently away in their long dark cloaks. Going wherever shadows went at night. Leaving him behind.

He stretched restlessly inside the silk cocoon. He might have been safe from physical harm but never from the nightmares in his own mind. Finally he pushed the covers back. The soft moonlight broke open the silk shell easily, but he found he still had to disentangle his legs from snarled shadows. And as he pulled himself into the open night air, out of the cocoon, he half-imagined he had wings. Beautiful black wings. But the illusion quickly passed. And soon he had curled his toes against the cold of the tiled hallway floor.

He drifted down the hall, pausing in front of the balcony to let the frigid night wash over him. It was so clean. So pure. And suddenly he wanted _out_. It didn't matter where. It didn't matter how. He wanted out of the cold stone labyrinth of halls—out of the mess of pillars and doors and windows that wrapped like bars around him. Out in that clean, fresh air. Out in that unadulterated night. Anywhere but here. He ran down long hallways, around corners, down flights of stairs, chilled feet no longer registering the cold. The main entrance, it was so close. But he was brought up short in his hurry, feet away from the main door that led out to the courtyard, by the sound of muffled yips. They echoed off the stone ceiling and walls, making it difficult to discern their origin.

For a moment Rath wavered, torn between freedom and curiosity. Until finally, curiosity won out. He turned around and headed toward the origin of the muffled sound. The going was slow, because at every corner he had to stop and listen to make sure he was going the right way. At one point, he took a right and was halfway down the hall before he realized he'd gone the wrong direction. But finally, he rounded a corner to find Sinistora pawing at one of the doors and yipping excitedly. She wagged her tail when she saw him and pawed harder at the door.

"What's in there, girl?" Rath asked, pressing one ear to the hard wood. He recognized the room as the one in which the Indian demons had been born, and from the sound of it, the entire lot of them were wreaking havoc in there now. And him without his sword… He grinned in the darkness, and silently twisted the doorknob with a clawed hand. "Ready…" Sinistora tensed. "Go!" Rath flung the door open, but before either of them could even think of jumping inside, they were hit with wafts of so many different colored dusts it turned the air a filmy gray. Rath started coughing. Bright lights seemed to spark and flash around him as the various dusts met in brief bursts of wanton destruction. Flash! And a crater appeared in the floor. Flash! And an entire shelf suddenly disappeared and reappeared on the opposite wall, then crashed to the floor. More dust went everywhere. Flash! And Sinistora briefly turned a vibrant lime green with purple poke-a-dots. Flash! And the room was suddenly floorless. Flash! And clouds of butterflies filled the air.

For a moment, through the wings and the dust and the flashes, Rath thought he could just make out the demons clambering around on the shelves. If only he could get across the room! Then one of them knocked over a satchel and the entire world was briefly consumed in an orange ball of light. Rath threw up his arms to shield his eyes. There was a funny, wrenching sensation that made Sinistora whine. Then slowly, oh so slowly, the dust cleared and the light died down. Rath opened his eyes, peering through the dissipating mist for the demons… and gaped. When he'd said he wanted _out_, this wasn't quite what he'd meant. The room, the castle, Arinas, all of it… was gone...

* * *

_Later_… 

Kharl about had a heart attack when he realized Rath was practically _in Lykouleon's castle_. He imagined all sorts of heinous scenarios. But the one thought he couldn't displace—the one thing that filled him with a debilitating sort of dread—was that Lykouleon _knew_. He had to know. How could he not? What if Rath was with him even now? What if Lykouleon had caught him and was… _changing_ him? Kharl didn't know what he'd say when he saw Rath again—_if_ he saw him again. It was on his mind to give the boy a lecture that would peel the skin from his ears, but he didn't manage to get out more than a single, "_Rath _Illuser," before he'd been vice-gripped, released, and practically yanked off his feet by the excitedly exclaiming boy. He'd initially appeared inside the Darnia stables, but now he was being pulled out towards the field.

"Dragons, Kharl! Dragons!" Rath yanked on his sleeve, pointing excitedly. There, in a wide enclosure, was a group of peacefully grazing Darnias.

"Yes, dragons." Kharl couldn't suppress the bitterness that twisted his words. But Rath was too wrapped up in his own enthrallment to notice. In one awkward movement he was over the fence and gliding across the field, leaving Kharl with only the sensation of a whisper of cloth in one outstretched hand. _Even now you choose them_? He took an alarmed step forward and hit the fence. It wasn't a very big fence, but it was sturdy and long and spanned a decade or two. And as he stood there watching Rath with the dragons, he was overcome with a sense of deepest envy and resentment. It smothered the bright afternoon sun. He wanted to jerk Rath away and lock him in the castle where the Dragon Tribe would never be able to make him happy again…

Then… amazingly… as though he'd felt it, Rath turned suddenly and gestured enthusiastically at him. _Come._ And just that quickly the fence melted away. Hesitantly, he stepped forward, allowing each gliding footstep to carry him further. And half-way there Rath met him, grinning and laughing—and followed a few yards distant by one of the younger, more playful Darnias. Unfortunately, that's when Sinistora chose to come loping out from behind one of the larger adult Darnias. Kharl _stopped_… and raised an eyebrow.

"Rath," he said, _very_ slowly, "why is Sinistora's fur purple… and orange?" This was an understatement. It wasn't _just_ purple and orange—it was _vibrant_ purple and orange. He was pretty sure there was a patch of pink on her right hind leg and one ear was decidedly blue.

"It happened when we came here." Rath blinked innocently. And now that he had a chance to look, he realized that one of Rath's eyes was gold. Sighing gently, he knelt and held out his hands.

"Come here, you two troublemakers." When they had reached him, he placed a hand on Sinistora's fur and the other over Rath's gold eye. Under his breath he muttered a cleansing spell and watched as the offending magic washed away.

"Okay, okay," Rath muttered impatiently, looking back longingly at the Darnias. Kharl eyed them warily, but when Rath ran to rejoin them, he made no gesture to stop him. Rather, he took a perch in one of the tall trees that overlooked the field and the valley that stretched out beyond. From there he watched idly (and a little protectively) as Rath chased the young Darnia in a sort of tag around the feet of the parents. Occasionally laughter would drift up from below. Of the two, Rath was by far the more agile. Kharl couldn't help but feel a sort of pride well up inside him as he watched Rath deftly dodge around obstacles that often left the little Darnia stumbling. But finally, with a surprise lunge, it managed to knock Rath back into the grass. Kharl tensed. But Rath broke out into laughter again as he was quickly licked to death. With a sigh, Kharl settled himself back against the trunk of the tree. It was okay. But then…

_Thwump_. With a startled gasp of surprise, he was almost knocked out of the tree by a very _large_, cold, wet Darnia nose. As it was, he lost his purchase on the branch and scrambled very gracelessly to pull himself back up. To add insult to injury, the Darnia had the nerve to lick him upside the face during the single moment he had the distinct displeasure of hanging upside down. And no sooner had he managed to regain his grip (and his composure), than another offending Darnia nose reached up towards him.

"No, no! Go away!" He made shooing gestures at it, but it managed to get a-hold of the edge of his cloak and pulled playfully on it. Kharl dug his claws in to keep from being dragged out of the tree. And before he could get _really_ aggravated, there was a scrambling noise from somewhere beneath him. A second later he was rescued by Rath, who laid out flat further along the branch and brushed joyfully at all the inquisitive noses. Freed from the mauling, Kharl sat in the crook of the tree and kept a watchful eye on the boy. After awhile the Darnias' curiosity abated and the barrage of wet noses ceased. Rath leaned farther and farther out to brush the scaly snouts, largely ignored by the mammals below. And that was just fine with Kharl. While Rath enjoyed himself, he took the chance to observe some of the native wildlife.

And slowly, the sun slunk across the sky.

Kharl was watching a pair of red-winged birds in the boughs above him when he was jerked out of his thoughts by a sudden surprised yelp…

* * *

Rath had tried to reach one of the Darnias by shifting his weight to the side and leaning out, only to lose his balance… With a startled yelp, he fell. He thought he heard someone shout his name, but it was hard to tell over the _whap_ of leaves and _sting_ of twigs. There was a moment of nothingness, when the world seemed to be rushing infinitely closer. Then he hit something with an audible _crack_! His head snapped back. Black stars wheeled across his vision. And then, just as suddenly, cleared. And he realized that at some point he'd been caught by Kharl. Long arms clutched him close. Worried eyes stared down at him from a panic-stricken face. And large white wings spread wide to keep them hovering in mid-air. Rath blinked, trying to make the lingering fuzziness dissipate. 

"I knew… you'd catch me." Rath smiled half-heartedly, but winced as his head throbbed. A pained expression crossed Kharl's face.

"Hold still." He sat down by the tree trunk, placing Rath on his lap, and reached out and touched his forehead. The pain dissolved. Kharl ruffled his hair. "How can you be so sure?"

"I trust you." This time Rath's smile was genuine. Impish. He shook his head a bit as though to test the painlessness of it, unaware that Kharl had frozen.

_Trust_? Kharl swallowed. That thing of mist and vapor that always faded away the harder one tried to hold onto it? How easily he said it! How easily it came to a mind that could not even truly remember where it had been three months ago. What kind of trust was built on a web of lies? And yet, Kharl wanted to believe it was real—wanted desperately to believe that brief spark of blatant honesty was the real Rath.

Because suddenly, everything seemed fake. The sun in the sky. The boy in his arms. What a piece of work was the world he'd made! So easy to make the flowers bloom and the sun shine… and young boys forget they'd murdered an entire race. Everything would always be just the way he wanted it. _Perfect_. But was perfect good enough anymore? For just a moment, he was overcome with the desire to reach out and return the memories he'd stolen. Just for the chance to hear those words from a Rath that remembered everything—that _knew_ and could say them anyway. To hear them from _that_ Rath… _that_ would be a truly marvelous thing. But he knew what he'd see instead. Rath's grin would fade into disgust. His eyes would fill with years of horror. With a pain he'd never admit. And he'd jerk away from his touch in disgust. But maybe… just maybe, that would be better.

Sadness seemed to settle on the air. Rath stilled in his arms—grew silent. Perhaps he sensed something of Kharl's mood. The sun inched lower.

"Kharl." The words were slow, quiet. "Why do you care about me so much?" Kharl looked up, surprised, putting his own thoughts aside. Rath was staring down at the ground, his shoulders hunched, almost defensively. In his demeanor Kharl saw the slightest hint of the haunted boy Lykouleon had taken in. And something inside tightened painfully. Kharl knew what it was: fear.

"Rath, I made you." Startled flash of eyes. Carefully, he reached out and turned Rath's chin to face him. "Your soul, your body—there is not a single piece of you I didn't create. And yet you… _you_ are a gift that no amount of cautious planning or alchemical equations could ever hope to simulate. The meshing of body and spirit into that special thing called a soul is and will always be a miracle. _You_ are a miracle. No, you are more than that. You are _my_ miracle." And there at last was that smile again. Kharl smiled back. "I promise. I'll protect you." Then, with a movement too quick for Rath to dodge, he reached out and ruffled his hair again.

"Hey!" Rath yelped.

"Well, what do you say?" Kharl was still grinning, making sure to stay just out of reach of any kind of retaliation. "Want to go home now?"

"Ah, but Arinas is so boring!" Rath pouted.

Kharl's grin widened wickedly. "I think you'll find entertainment enough when you get back."

Rath eyed him suspiciously. "Alright, I guess."

As if sensing what was desired of her, Sinistora appeared at his side. Kharl gathered Rath to him, shutting out the world with the white wall of his cloak. And when he drew the edges of it back, they were standing in the courtyard in Arinas. Here the sun had not even made it half way across the sky.

Rath folded his arms. "So what was this 'entertainment' you were talking about?"

"Ah, yes." Kharl gestured towards the castle. "You have demons to find. Three of them, actually." At this point there was a startled shout from further in the castle. Kharl blinked. "Ah, it sounds like Garfakcy has already spotted one." But Rath was already running across the courtyard, closely followed by a happily barking Sinistora. Kharl smiled. That ought to occupy Rath for a while. Suddenly he groaned. Long enough for him to install Rath safety locks on everything hazardous in the castle…

* * *

Sometime around noon, Garfakcy found Kharl on the balcony, watching Rath and Sinistora chase a demon around the courtyard. He was smiling. Not one of the sad, almost bitter smiles he'd so often worn, but a genuinely amused sort of smile. He'd been doing that a lot lately. No, Garfakcy corrected himself, he'd being doing it since Rath came. 

"Kharl?" Garfakcy joined him at the rail. "What is it about Rath? Why does he matter so much to you?" Kharl blinked, taken aback. His smile slid into solemnity. A moment passed of thoughtful silence. Then…

"Rath was… never _meant_ to be just another demon. There's something much more special inside him…"

Garfakcy wanted desperately to ask what, but he didn't want to push Kharl, and at that point there was a deafening clang from the courtyard. The moment broke. Kharl turned to go back inside, leaving Garfakcy to stare down at the black-haired boy far below in contemplation. _Something more_…

* * *

Somewhere around midnight, Kharl found the words of his book wandering randomly across the pages, catching on the page numbers, and generally falling all over each other in mismatched lumps of letters. That was when he decided to put it down. It was long past time he went to bed anyway. The light had long since faded from the windows. It had darkened to ebony in large squares on the floor. And the fire in the hearth could no longer reach its illuminating fingers farther than the clock on the wall, who's hands might have been pointing straight up, but who's shadows read a very firm two o'clock. He yawned, stretched, started to stand up, and finally caught sight of Sinistora and Rath. They'd fallen asleep in front of the fireplace—Rath curled up against Sinistora's side, her silky fur and tail like a thick blanket. They looked so peaceful curled up like that… Kharl was struck by the sudden thought that Sinistora might have been able to sense something of her namesake in the boy beside her. Perhaps that was why she'd taken such a liking to him. And in that second, Kharl could see it too. Something in the way they were both sprawled out, basking in the warmth of the fire. Something even in the book that lay cover up where it had dropped from slack hands. 

For a moment, Kharl only watched, half-unwilling to separate them. These two that were so alike. And in the stillness, the firelight flickered over the pair, claiming them and losing them in constant battle with the darkness that clogged the library's corners. But it would be cold here soon. And Rath wasn't a dog. So finally, reluctantly, Kharl knelt to close the fallen book and lift the somnolent bundle back into the sky, into his arms. Rath stirred as he was lifted, as he was taken away from the warmth of the fur and the fire. He murmured some soft thing, lips moving contentedly. And then, suddenly, he nestled against Kharl's warmth, burying his face in the crook of Kharl's arm so that only a mop of black hair stuck out.

At that moment, he could have sworn he felt the lightest brush of feathers through the thick cloak he wore. And if there were tufts of fur mixed in, well, it really made no difference. It still felt just as good.

Something in Kharl's chest tightened painfully. This feeling… this warmth that filled him head to toe. Was this happiness? Trust? Because if felt right. It felt _so right_. And for a few seconds nothing else mattered but the feel of this unconscious bundle in his arms—of the legs draped haphazardly over his arm, and the bare feet dangling in the chilled air, and the mop of black hair against the startling white of his cloak. He stared down at the fair features and delicate eyelashes closed in repose. And he smiled the smallest of warm smiles. For so long, far too long, he'd watched from a distance, unable to so much as _touch_ the boy in his arms, let alone hold him in the security of his embrace. Just to know… to know it could be like this. He could feel their hearts beating in unison. All the tension just seemed to rush out of him in one shaky exhale, and for the first time in a long time, Kharl completely let his guard _drop_.

And he thought maybe—just maybe—everything would be alright.

But eventually he forced his feet to move—to leave behind the warmth of the rug and the heat of happiness— and cover the cold, tiled distance to the door. Balancing Rath precariously, he reached out and caught the door knob between his fingers, pulling it shut just as the shadows won their war with the fire…

* * *

**Rath Moments #2 "Kharl's Solution to Keeping Tabs on Rath"**

The third time Rath randomly disappeared, Kharl installed…

A homing beacon…

* * *

**Dear Readers**, 

**Alright, it's been a long time in coming, but here, at last, is chapter 4! Not only that, but I'm proud to announce chapters 5 and 6 are both complete as well. In fact, I'll even go so far as to say chapter 5 is called "Death." Within the next three chapters, 2 characters are going to die. Special cookies to anyone who can guess which two characters they are. (smiles) Also, I'm sorry about not doing the Thatz scene I mentioned last chapter. As I moved things around to get this to you, it became… impractical. (sad sigh) **

PROMISES**: If I get 4 reviews for this chapter, I absolutely swear to get chapter 5 up in 2 weeks!**

* * *

**CHAPTER 5 PREVIEW: **

Distantly, he realized he was being soaked. The rain dripped from dark hair and damp clothes. It dripped from the balcony and from the stone outcroppings. And _everywhere_ it dripped in pristine rivulets. Except his hands. There alone it dripped… red. Squeezing his eyes shut, he let his face fall forward into them—let them smear the tainted rain over pale skin. He could no longer tell where the wetness came from. It really was red. And it was cold. Cold rain. Cold blood.

**REVIEW RESPONSES: **

**To Firehedgehog: (conk) Okay, so you didn't actually review. (friendly death glower) But I wanted to reply anyway. Really, you ought to get special stars for being the only one to email, minus Shiro whose review somehow went whacky. (smiles) On the other hand, REVIEW! (desperate) How am I supposed to know you care about the story if you don't review?! (bounces) On the other hand, I was immensely pleased to receive little messages in my email. 'Bout shocked me right out of my chair though. Like anyone ever talks to anyone else on outside of reviews… However, regarding you writing DK fanfiction. Better hurry, if the rumor is to be believed, there're only two more DK books left in the series! Also, non-yaoi? Please tell me you plan on writing at least 'one' thing that's not yaoi??? (puppy-dog eyes) **

**To Hotaru007: (bounce) A new person! And of course, it figures the first you see of me is enough to give anyone an unfavorable impression. Six months to post a chapter! I know, I know. I'm sorry. (cries—grins) I really must thank you. Not only for complimenting my characterization, but for the "Lykouleon's relationship with Rath" idea! That was awesome! At first, I thought I wouldn't be able to add any of it since the whole of this story takes place on Arinas (well, except this chapter, but Rath doesn't remember Lykouleon right now anyway), making it slightly hard to see Rath and Lykouleon together. However, not only did I think it over, I came up with an entire theory on why Lykouleon saved Rath AND I dedicated an entire scene in 6 to you which is from Lykouleon's perspective. Boy was it a pain to work in, but now I very much like it! (smiles) Ch. 6 'is' my favorite so far, after all. Too bad my stone theory turned out to be wrong, but I'm also glad that it was clear enough you were able to understand what I was implying. Regarding Kharl and Rath's relationship… Man, have I gotten more reviews on this than anything else. And I 'am' thankful you've all been so willing to tell me so. However, Kharl 'does' love Rath… as his son! Since Kharl implies a family relationship in the manga ("All little boys should remember their mother"), I just couldn't see making this an incest story. And of course, I don't much prefer yaoi in the first place. (gives you pleading eyes for a moment) Please don't hate me just because our values are different! (flails) I just don't think Kharl made Rath for that reason. I did try to leave it somewhat open in my story by not saying "son" or "father." And there's one part in chapter 6 that comes really, REALLY close. Man, but I can't wait to post that chapter! And truthfully, I'm struggling with Rath. I feel that I'm confusing the 19-year-old version of him with the 5-year-old version. Or bouncing between the two. However, if you think that my characterization is close, then you obviously have a good grasp of DK yourself. And looking at your review count… O.O Goodness Gracious! (moment of shocked silence) I would assume you are also a very good writer. Dang! Why don't you write non-yaoi? This makes me want to analyze your writing! And oh, oh, oh! You should join us in the "Official DK Discussion Thread" on Gaia! It's so awesome! The end of DK! We now have a number! If you want to find me there, I'm currently "Left Bird." Also, Shiro Ryuu and Aquajogger and Sarehptar and many more of the almighty DK authors are there. And now that I've scared you half to death, being a strange and freaky fanfiction person and all, I think I'd better leave you be. **

**To Dark Angel Rath: I see I have failed in the command to get this up quickly. But never fear! Chapter 5 will be up sooner, I swear. Although I still want to give it several weeks. Partly to start getting on chapter 7 and partly to give everyone time to review. If I put it up too quickly, I lose reviews. So what happened to Rath, you ask? Nothing bad… yet. (evil almighty author chuckle of doom) Oh, trust me, I 'do' enjoy torturing him! And you know, he's going to get tortured worse… I think everything else I've desired to say to you, I have already said to you through email. **

**To Sarehptar: Almighty author of Cloaks! Omniscient Kharl fan! Friend named Sareh. And always the one I knew first. All those titles. This, of course, is why I haven't gotten back to you. When you said you wanted to read my fanfiction, I figured I'd better get on it while I have a break. And low and behold, I actually enjoyed it! And yes, you are right. I do tend to focus on one set of details. Not to offer excuses, because I definitely still need to think about that, but I think perhaps what happens is that I struggle to come up with details like crazy. I know what has to happen, and I know what each of the characters has to feel. But other than that, minor-ly big details like oh, say, where they are and what time of day it is and whether or not it's cloudy, don't come easily to me. It's almost like I don't like saying there was moonlight because that alleviates the possibility that it was cloudy outside. I don't know if I just like keeping possibilities open, or if I really just don't pay attention to physical details. So when I decide on a detail, I work it to death. And you know, I love what I do with that detail—I think I write what I 'do' write very well—but I really also ought to think about all those other details too. On the other hand, nor do I want this to turn out like Cloaks with 10 pages describing one scene. (wink) Length is only good in so far as it doesn't overwhelm to the point of boredom. Kind of like these review responses. (dubious) But I am in utter agreement on your analysis regarding my lack of details describing the non-sound. One person for sure got very confused. No, two people. Two people who actually made the effort to tell me. (groans) Truthfully, this is my only problem with ch. 5 right now. It's complete, but there's more of the non-sound in it, and that part isn't very clear. If I make changes before posting it, it'll probably be to try and do something about that. But… I'm just so worried. I don't want to describe it too much yet. I want it to be a mystery. And the Kharl/Rath fans. You know, I even tried to keep words like "father" and "son" out to assuage some of that, since I knew I wasn't going there. But of course, nothing appeases… So! They'll have to deal. Chapter 6 is as close as I'm coming. And… it really is pretty close. sweats But because it's close it is such a super-awesome scene! It is my favorite of all I've written. And I really want to get it up, except I want to make sure 7 is finished first, and who knows how long that'll take! (grins) You're just lucky I'm taking summer classes. Otherwise I'd be losing access for over 3 months! **

**To Shiro Ryuu: Authoress of much good author-ness. And of course, the one I love beta-reading for most. As I write this it has been oh, say, two weeks (?) since I last talked to you. I was so used to going home every night and working on what I was going to write to you next, that forcing myself not to write to you was… well, pretty miserable that first day. It was like being lost. And it was Sareh who finally convinced me to stop moping and use the time constructively. So I poured all that pent up energy I had from talking to you into writing my own fanfiction stories and finishing some of them up. And right now I feel only something like accomplished. But the curiosity is starting to bug me again and I suspect I shall be talking to you shortly. For now though… (stares at strange, half-written reviews) Ri-ight. (turns to email) Okay! So actually, I did find one type-o. But no one else did. So don't feel bad. I'm just trying to get constructive crit out of people—kind of like what I send you for beta-reading! It must be wonderful to get that kind of in-depth analysis. I'm missing out, I tell ya. The best chapter so far? (giggle) Too bad then that the bad chapters are the ones people are going to see first. (cry) I just wish I could erase the entire chapter 2! Man, I hate that chapter now. Why do I have to be so erratic?! But see? I do know how to write well when I want to! (smiles) So I'm not just some dumb idiot who found you and claims to be able to tell you what's wrong with your stories. And I'm hoping that these next three chapters will be up to par with ch. 3. At the very least, I feel that I did generally well. But I can also see that I confused not only you, but a handful of other people as well. I was trying to be a little vague and I can see now that I was vague to the point of confusion. Rath's memories of what he was are there, but they're what Kharl took away, inadvertently leaving a hole where other things can get in! But what that other thing is that keeps call his name… only time will tell. I feel like I'm dropping hints like crazy, but admittedly they're very small hints. (sweats) Do I even know what it really is? I hope so… But it's going to be hard to explain. The biggest hint will come in chapter 6. Ah, thank you for the removal of mind from gutter-age. I was terrified about doing that scene. I'm glad you liked it. Truthfully, I have been very carefully avoiding the use of the word "son" because I know there are people out there who want to see it a different way, and while I disagree, neither do I want to lose their interest. And because Kharl never refers to Rath as 'son' in the manga. But it's been a struggle. (bounces) I'm glad you didn't find the humor a total waste. But I'm even gladder you found the actual chapter worthwhile. (smiles) And you actually quoted a bunch of my favorite lines as well. That is to say, the lines I am most proud of. Sometimes, as an author, I want to convey these beautiful images that pop into my mind, but if I don't say them just right, they don't mean squat to anyone else. There is nothing more frustrating than a line or concept I am in utter love with that means nothing to the ones I'm trying to convey it to. Once again, I apologize for leaving Thatz out. I wanted to do it; I still want to. This chapter feels pointless to me in the fact that here I have Rath all in Dusis and 'something' should happen, but really, nothing does. Oh, I progressed Kharl and Rath's relationship. With that I am pleased. But I still feel like I need that moment where he runs into someone he knows. In any case, here's 4! And soon I shall have 5 up. **

**To me: Uh, hello me, who is actually NOT me, but who is 'me' nonetheless. (swirly eyes) I'm just playing, 'cause I know you. (wink) (gapes at your name change) WHAT?!!! **


	5. Death

The awarding of cookies…

**Shiro Ryuu** gets massive cookie piles for being the only one to realize that the line "What a piece of work was the world he'd made" was a parody of Hamlet's line "What a piece of work is man!" And another cookie for being the only one to catch the butterfly foreshadowing…

**Sarehptar** gets one cookie pile for being the only one to figure out that the entire middle of chapter four was based on a picture from the beginning of book #12!

**Shiro Ryuu** and **CatGrl106** get half a cookie a-piece for being the only two to attempt to guess which character dies, even though neither guessed right. I'd tell you the answer, but (grin) I think I'll let you read the chapter…

Oh, and **Sarehptar** and **Shiro Ryuu** get another cookie a-piece for being the only two to give me constructive crit…

OH! And massive apologies to **The.Neutral.Zinner**! Somehow, I blanked on a review response! Be assured you have one now! Speaking of which, **Hotaru007**, did you ever see yours?

* * *

For those of you who happen to be super-genius chemistry people… I made it up. If it happens to be poisonous or toxic or explosive... well, I suppose I shall find it all the more amusing! Anyone brave enough to tell me what I created? And I apologize for subjecting you all to yet more horrible poetry! Put up with it for me? 

**Chapter 5**

Death…

**Death is slowly, slowly falling… **

**And it **_**whispers**_**—calling, calling, **

**With a voice sandpaper thin—**

_**Whispers**_** that crawl down your skin.**

**Death is softly, softly walking…**

_**Closer**_**, always stalking, stalking**

**Through a world softly humming—**

_**Closer**_** it is always coming. **

Kharl carefully deposited Rath in his bed, letting go of the warm bundle only reluctantly. He lingered there for a moment, smiling wryly, hand hesitating just above the doorknob, before turning and leaving. He closed the door, sealing the room with a whispered protection spell and walked away…

* * *

_It hadn't seemed so bad before—the appalling silence of slumber. Lazing between the intoxicating warmth of Kharl's presence and the soul-numbing heat of the fire, it had almost seemed amiable. It had even whispered softly of safety. For a moment, one foolish moment, he'd dared to believe it wouldn't hurt him. _

_He'd been wrong. _

_The bone-numbing chill hadn't gone away, it had simply been held at bay. And as the fire dwindled to nothing behind them, and as he was left there in the cold of seclusion, it crept closer. Not that the cold or the dark or the emptiness was anything to be afraid of, just that he hadn't completely convinced himself there wasn't something _else_ out there. He shuddered at the thought. One run-in with something like that was enough for a lifetime. Even if nothing had happened. The knowledge that it was out there, that it knew him, was bad enough. And who knew what might have happened if their encounter had continued even a second longer. _

_Rath laughed suddenly. Of all the stupid things! It didn't exist! Things like that just couldn't be real. Maybe it had all been some sort of nightmare, and he was acting like an idiot scaring himself to death. What would Kharl say if he could see him now? Nightmares weren't real. They were no more than half-existent whispers that scared children… So why did the laughter feel so fake? _

_Was it because he could feel something watching him…? _

_He jerked up into startled alertness. But there really wasn't any warning._

"_Ra-a-a-ath." It slashed through Rath's steely soul, cut it as though it were as soft as silk. Submerged inescapably in the nothingness, Rath writhed. _

"_Ra-a-a-ath." That sound! _

"_NO!" Rath tried desperately to shield himself from the nothingness of it. The nothingness as sharp as death, that bitter-edged blade, that threatened to swallow him whole. "STOP IT!" _

"_RA-A-A-ATH." The sound hit him. It struck like lightning. So fast it left fading ghostly afterimages imprinted in the darkness. So fast, he didn't feel the initial blow. But blood splattered in the dreamscape. Strange, glittery-dark blood. It took him a second to realize it was his—that it dripped steadily from a long, vertical gash in his side. And then he felt the pain… _

"_AAAGH!" _

"_RA-A-A-ATH." Again. That feeling of a speed so great it seemed to last forever, and then the blow. _

"_NO!" He screamed against it. He screamed to scream. He screamed because it was the only defense he had left. And because just maybe, if he could scream loud enough, he could break the sound of the other voice. _

"_RA-A-A-A-A-A-ATH." Or it would break him. And this time it struck home. _

* * *

In the moonlit room, clawed hands scrabbled against satiny sheets. _Scree_. _Scree_. And clenched into white-knuckled fists as the body arched up and up, until it seemed at the point of snapping. Muscles tightened painfully. Lungs tried desperately to suck in air with tight, rattling gasps. Then the spine convulsed, and the body fell back to the bed, gasping heavily. For a few moments it simply twisted, hands scrabbling again. Making that awful, grating noise. _Scree. Scree._ And then with a cry, almost a whimper, the body arched back up. Head fell back. Eyelids snapped open. Gray, sightless eyes stared into an invisible abyss. Into a hell only they could see. The mouth opened as if to howl out loud, but sucked in a long rattling breath instead. It seemed to last forever, the body bridged up, almost doubled back, before finally collapsing again, this time sliding off the bed. 

_Thwunk! _

* * *

Kharl had only made it a few steps down the corridor when his soul suddenly seemed to catch fire, and he dropped to the cold tile, clutching his chest. The hall blurred out before him. He tried to stand, to face this foe. Again it came, rocking him to the core, knocking him back to the floor—this unseen attacker. And again. 

This time he stayed down, breathing heavily. Calculating. Who had the power to attack him this way? Could it be some new trick of Lykouleon's? Had the man figured everything out that fast? But no, that didn't seem right. Because as painful as it was, he realized suddenly, he wasn't wounded. _He_ wasn't the one being attacked. Eyes opened wide. Rath! Rath was being attacked! Struggling to his feet, bracing himself with a nearby statue, he flung open the doors he'd just barely finished closing, and halted in the doorway. Rath was just pulling himself up to hands and knees from the floor, but his wide eyes flickered to Kharl's as he entered the room.

"Rath…" Kharl had no sooner said the word than he was hurrying across the room on wobbly legs, falling to his knees beside the black-haired boy. White robes pooled on the floor.

Rath didn't think. He fairly fell towards Kharl's open arms and felt them close around him. Eyes squeezed closed, he buried his face in Kharl's shoulder, still gasping. "Kharl… Kharl."

"What is it, Rath? What happened?" Kharl's whole being was constricted with panic. Although he didn't know the details of what'd just happened, he was somehow sure that he'd come close to losing Rath again. He held the boy tighter, afraid to let him go. Wanting, _needing_ to know he was all right.

Rath was still shaking.

* * *

Rath's eyes were squeezed closed as he sought desperately to dispel the terror flooding his system. This thing… This thing he had no words for. It wasn't something he could fight. Not like demons—straightforward demons—with ordinary weapons that could be parried, that could only draw blood, that could _only_ kill. He was assailable by this new force in ways a thousand times worse. Because it could bloody his _soul._

But he couldn't say that out loud. That would mean it had been real. And more than anything he just wanted that _thing_ to return to the nightmare it had come from.

He opened his eyes and stared at his fingers, where they were curled tightly in the soft white of Kharl's cloak. And the world seemed to spin out of his control again. Blurring out. A cloak. A cloak… splattered with blood? Yes, black blood in the moonlight, everywhere. Pooling stickily onto the ground. On that soft, clean cloak. Rath stiffened, staring down at hands suddenly splattered with blood…. Kharl's blood.

No! He shoved away from Kharl's comforting embrace, holding his poisonous hands out away from his body. But they were clean hands. The world righted itself. Things fell back into place with a small 'whunk.' The bed. The dresser. Kharl.

He continued to stare at his hands with wide eyes.

"Rath?" At Kharl's worried query he looked up. Met that searching gaze. Then, letting his hands fall into his lap, he looked away.

"It's nothing."

* * *

Rath wasn't going to tell him. Kharl knew it. Whatever it was, Rath wasn't going to _tell_ him. There was a void between them again. Somehow this horrible chasm had opened up and separated them. Rath was only a few feet away from him. But he might as well have been a thousand. Kharl couldn't understand it. What had happened? They'd been so close. Rath had reached out for his embrace, had _needed_ it, Kharl had felt it! And then… this. The thought kept coming with increasing frequency: "_I'm losing him_." And he couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand the thought of letting anything tear them apart again. Not Lykouleon, not Dragon blood, not even Rath's own thoughts. 

"Don't shut me out!" He reached out to the boy, willing him to take the hand, to bridge that awful gap that was two-feet across and a thousand miles wide. But Rath's reaction was startling and instantaneous.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" He flinched further into the corner. Kharl felt like he'd been slapped. Did even his _touch_ inspire loathing now? **(—)**

"_I_ am _losing him_…"

* * *

_Later_… 

The hours dragged by in a sort of gray haze. Kharl tried everything to get his mind off the matter, but even alchemy felt tedious and tiring, and he couldn't keep his mind on it. It didn't help that Rath had gone out of his way to avoid him—to not so much as look at him. A solemn pall had fallen over the castle. Even Garfakcy felt it…

Kharl had been trying unsuccessfully to find solace in the bindings of his books—he'd been staring at the same page for upwards of two hours—when the younger servant came in bearing a tray of lemon tarts. When Kharl didn't stir, he set them carefully on one of the piles of books that seemed to perpetually count as a tabletop, and as was his uncanny way of doing, got right to the heart of the matter…

"What's wrong with Rath this time?"

With a small smile, Kharl closed the book and set it aside, but his eyes refused to move from that spot where the pages had been previously.

* * *

Rath stood on the balcony, staring with unseeing eyes down at the ground beneath him. At some point, a light drizzle had started up, but the mass of mismatched emotions roiling inside him was worse than any weather. The powerful pressure of doubt and the awful weight of guilt, like waves, washing away any firm footing. "_What have I done?_" And worse, "_Why can't I remember?_" 

Distantly, he realized he was being soaked. The rain dripped from dark hair and damp clothes. It dripped from the balcony and from the stone outcroppings. And _everywhere_ it dripped in pristine rivulets. Except his hands. There alone it dripped… red. Squeezing his eyes shut, he let his face fall forward into them—let them smear the tainted rain over pale skin. He could no longer tell whether the wetness was rain or blood or tears. It really was red. And it was cold. Cold rain. Cold blood.

Then, through the steady _splitter_ of the rain, he heard the _swish_ of long garments as they stopped in the hall behind him. The silence of eyes.

Rath took the tiniest of breaths. Through bloodstained lips, he whispered, "Have I ever… _hurt_ you…?"

For a moment, the silence only came down harder. And it had already been falling for so long… Silence to drown in.

Then, carefully… "When I see you… all I feel is happiness."

He didn't hear anything. So he jerked a little under the sudden touch of a hand on his back—just the fingertips at first. Like warm rain that never melted or ran away. Then the palm of a hand. Slowly. 'Till he realized he was being drawn away from the banister. Inch by inch. Being forced to let go.

He shivered as arms closed comfortably around him and he was drawn back into the safety of a white cloak and the warmth of a body. And he realized suddenly that he was dry. And it was enough…

For a while the two of them stood there, blinking lazily at the wet world. Then…

"Rath," Kharl said suddenly from somewhere just above his left ear, "have you ever played with disodium-phosfate or calcified-nitrate?"

"Huh?"

* * *

After the fiasco with the little demons the day before, Kharl had sealed the storeroom with a number of spells. Spells of invisibility, of forgetfulness, and even spells to make the room un-findable. But Kharl wasn't about to rely on all that to keep certain demons out. After all, Rath was very resourceful. So maybe, if he taught Rath how to use things properly, he could at least avoid a complete debacle. Besides, he suddenly found himself intrigued by the concept of teaching someone else about the art of alchemy. 

So it was that the two of them found themselves once again in the storeroom. Rath's delight had not been dimmed by his last visit. If anything, he was all the more intrigued by the strange objects on the shelves. Kharl found himself hit by a steady barrage of questions.

"What's this? What's this one do?"

Kharl answered deftly, only half paying attention to the boy's antics. "Essence of demon's blood."

"And this one?"

"Wormwood root."

"What about…"

"Slime of a Borjog. _RATH_…"

"Yes?" Rath looked up from the opening of a certain ornately carved wooden box.

"DON'T touch that…" Under Kharl's withering gaze, the lid dropped closed with a small click. Kharl turned back to his search. A small pile of assorted bottles and satchels was slowly amassing at his feet. But there was one thing… He began muttering under his breath as he continued, "Where is it? Where _is_ it?" Frustrated, he looked up just in time to see Rath knock a little blue vial off one of the upper shelves…

"Oops…"

* * *

There was something like the sound of an explosion, the door rattled, and a cloud of black soot poofed out around the frame. Sometime later, a black demon walked out of the room. It had Kharl's hair and Kharl's long cloak and Kharl's slowly blinking violet eyes through the layers and layers of black ash. 

"I expect you'll be needing a broom?" Garfakcy asked, raising one eyebrow quizzically. Kharl sighed.

"Yes, I expect I will…"

* * *

The rest of the day passed in the comfort of alchemical explosions, and by the time dusk rolled around, they were all too willing to throw themselves into their respective beds, giving themselves over to the whims of sleep. But the twilight-lidded eyes of sleep are fickle, and as often as they bring sweet dreams, bring they dotingly dark despair…

* * *

_It found him faster this time. _

_Perhaps because it now knew where he was. Perhaps that made it easier. Or perhaps it had gotten stronger… _

"_RA-A-A-ATH!" The sound of it shook the darkness to its core. The world rocked. Rath felt things spiral out around him. But it was the non-sound of it that struck deepest. Unlike the strangely sharp clarity of the sound of his name, the non-sound was a sort of buzzing in his head. A high-pitched hum—so familiar it hurt. He knelt with his hands clamped so tightly over his ears they drew blood. He didn't want to hear it—it was driving him crazy! But nothing could shut it out. It was inside him. "GIVE IT BACK!" The sound… With a distant sort of fuzziness he realized something had changed. But he was almost beyond caring. All he knew was the sharp, blood-splattering pain that sliced into him. "GIVE IT BACK TO ME!" _

"…_don't… don't understand…" _

"_GIVE IT BACK!" The lash of lightning. He felt things break inside. Felt things snap. "RA-A-ATH! RA-A-ATH! RA-ATH!" The repetitions of his name tumbled over each other, became rippled waves. And they hit him, broke over him. One after the other. Each one dissipated just long enough for him to gasp—not even long enough to scream—before the next one hit again. Then he was beyond screaming—beyond thinking. His own claws extended and sliced bloody trails into his body. There was blood everywhere now. And he began to understand. It wasn't going to let up. It wasn't going to let him go. It was going to tear him to ribbons._

_A black sort of destiny opened before him, and in desperation, he cried out. Cried out to the one who had promised to watch over him. _

"_Kharl! _Kharl!_"_

* * *

"_Kharl!_" His name. Someone… calling—_screaming_! Over and over. Between the waves of pain. He knew he needed to break the connection between them—knew he had to cut the boy off if he wanted to save him—but the pain left him unable even to gather the strength to try. He fought desperately to raise himself on shaking arms—to force useless legs to maneuver him onto his feet. But he'd only made it to the side of the bed when the next crest of pain hit, sending him crashing to the floor. It pinned him as effectively as manacles. Frustration welled up inside him and was just as quickly replaced by horrible desperation. _Fear_. 

Stretching one hand desperately out across the carpet, as though he could reach through the years and the walls and the pain, he cried, "Rath!"

* * *

"_Kharl! Kha-!" A shriek splintered the cry. Eyes squeezed closed, crying uncontrollably. A hiccup of air. Then, "Kharl! KHARL!" But there was no reply. Again and again he screamed. Smoldering panic began to eat away at the ashes of his thoughts. "…but you promised. You PROMISED! KHA-RL!" His voice broke as one of the waves of pain cut deeper than the others. A white-hot whiplash of agony, and past that… a place where there was nothing… before he was ripped back down into reality again as it faded. Into a cold sort of certainty. And his cries became sobs—became whispering pleas with the darkness as everything faded. The non-sound continued, but there was no pain now. Just a gray haze. He lay still, only his lips moving—still mouthing words his mind had long since forgotten. _

"_He-elp me…" _

_Then…_

_A name. _

_A name that flickered at the edge of his thoughts like the last guttering sparks of a candle. _

"Ce… sia…"

_flicker…_

* * *

Across the world, in a darkness of her own, a girl with long waves of hair sat bolt upright in bed with the still-fading aftershocks of pain and the lingering echoes of her own name. 

And she _knew_…

* * *

Was it fear that slowed his footsteps? That made every step seem to last an eternity? Or was it fear that seemed to speed everything up, so that that horrible moment when he flung the doors wide open seemed to come all too soon? Fear of what he would find—of what he already _knew_ he was going to find… 

It was the feathers he saw first… everywhere. Some were still drifting downward—ice-sharp black edges cutting the strange stillness, illuminated oddly in the sunlight that was pouring in through the tall double windows. They were scattered across the bed, across the floor, like when a bird is hit out of the air. One white pillow lay amid the falling black snow, handfuls of stuffing protruding from jagged gashes. He'd been avoiding looking at the bed, but now his gaze seemed almost drawn to it, the place where the feathers were thickest… where the sheets and blankets lay in non-cohesive pieces, thoroughly shredded… where Rath lay, unnaturally still. Something in Kharl stopped. Was it his heart? And suddenly weak, he hurried across the room, knelt, and reached out to the body…

…lying still as death on the stark-white sheets.

* * *

**(—) This was deleted for an entirely different reason than the first one. I felt like I was losing my grip on the characters somehow, and I was definitely losing my grip on description, and I was just tired of Rath ending up in Kharl's arms. It would have made a grand total of… I have lost count of how many times. And that felt a little much. **

"**Stained"**

It took all the strength he possessed to grab the boy and hold him captive while he twisted and kicked and screamed, "DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T _TOUCH_ ME!" Kharl took the beating soundlessly, holding him lightly enough so as not to leave a bruise, but not so light as to enable any kind of escape, and waited for the boy to tire. It didn't take long. Neither of them had that much energy. And when he finally leaned, breathing heavily, in the circle of Kharl's arms, Kharl pulled the boy closer. Rath didn't resist, but neither did he respond. He lay with his hands pushed awkwardly away. Kharl reached out and took one of them into his own, twining their fingers together and turning the palm up, so they could both see it.

"Rath, what's wrong with your hands?"

* * *

**Dear Readers, **

**Thank you so much! All of you who reviewed! You're the reason this is up now. Unfortunately, I can't make any promises about chapter 6. Yes, it's finished. But I don't want to put it up until I have some of 7 finished, otherwise you'll be waiting years for 7! To make matters worse, some of the translations from book 25 may force me to completely redo a flashback scene in 6. And more unfortunately, I have a couple other stories I have to update first… **

**Oh, and regarding the second death (which no one has gotten right yet)… It's not Garfakcy, nor is it Rath again. Also, it is actually possible that yet 'another' person is going to die in the end. Actually, from my point of view, it's almost written in stone. (cackle) No one is going to get out of this story alive! So there's a grand total of at least three deaths. (this 'is' angst) **

**And WOOO! Punch and cookies for all! I just made the 20,000 word mark! (prays for 40)**

**-Leeayre**

* * *

**CHAPTER 6 PREVIEW:**

Rath is dead. His soul has been almost completely shredded. Can Kharl do something about it? Or is this beyond even his abilities? What is Rath's soul really made out of anyway? Meanwhile, in Dusis, the Dragon Tribe is still getting over the loss of their heir. But they're about to get some startling news!

* * *

**REVIEW RESPONSES: **

**To The.Neutral.Zinner: Thank you for the review! And I'm so sorry about forgetting about you! (flails) I don't know how it happened! So, I'm glad you like my story, assuming after all the insult of being left out and the time that's passed you're still actually reading this. Seeing as how I haven't heard from you since, I'm inclined to believe you hate my guts right about now. (cries) But I really do appreciate the interest! There are so few people who like DK. But the real question: Was that scene in 13 actually KharlxRath? There are a lot of people who believe it was. But also a lot of really good major DK players who believe it could have been that Kharl simply hadn't seen his son in 13 years or so and was desperate. I'll leave it up to you decide. (smile) But at long last we are approaching the end of the DK! How far have you gotten to read? **

**To CatGrl106: YES! Ah, I was beginning to really get saddened that no one was even 'attempting' to guess the identity of the dead person! (saddened) But then you reviewed! And you had a really good guess, by the way. Garfakcy seems the most logical to me as well because he seems the least important. But killing Rath was so much more fun! (giggles) **

**To Dark Angel Rath: Let's see. It's May 31, so you just wrote a review to me today. But I suspect it shall be more like June 14 before you read this. Don't worry too much about emailing me in any kind of timely manner. I don't mind having time. (looks forward to it) So now you have read the Death chapter, and you know Rath dies. YAY! (bounces happily) But funny enough, I think Kharl is the one who's going to suffer most over it. And of course, you know, he isn't going to stay dead long. It just occurred to me that one way or another, Rath is spending the great majority of my story is unconsciousness. (sweats) Oh, and I will get back to your PM! **

**To Firehedgehog: (tackle-glomp) So good to see you! The books are hard to get there? (blink) How many have you been able to read? Sorry, this from one who has all of the book 25 spoilers… YAY! Go, chibi Rath! But a cross-over with what other series? And regarding your question… That is an extremely good question! One that I really need to answer up at the top since I've had so many people wonder. Maybe next chapter, since it's shorter… The truth is this: Rath is supposed to be the older version of him you see in the actual manga. However, this Rath doesn't remember everything the manga-version Rath does. As Sarehptar pointed out to me, he's more the way Kharl wants him to be right now. Carefree. Free-spirited. Young. But even I think I went a little 'too' young in that last chapter. It happened because I was basing the entire thing on a picture in which Rath is like 5! Also, I have half a PM ready to send you… **

**To Sarehptar: (cries VERY fake tears and attempts to smother smirky smiles) I really managed to make the beginning confusing, huh? This was very much my fault. It's one of those "I forgot since I know exactly where they are and what's going on that other people might not get it." DOY! I figured people would realize from the bottles and shelves and dust that it was back in the storeroom—like Kharl would leave that sort of stuff in Rath's room! But gosh, dang, I want to take it down now and fix that. If I switched the sections around… (mutter, mutter) …but then I'd be missing a piece of time between Kharl realizing he's gone and finding him. I could've/should've jumped back to Rath there and detailed where he appeared. I DID notice a big hole there. But, but! …I don't know if it's worth the work to fix it now that it's already posted. Dang. (berates you) You should've told me this before! (fake dead serious nodding) You should've read my mind and told me this was going to be a problem! No, no, no—the funny thing was as I read your review I kept muttering, "Keep reading, Sareh! Keep reading!" like that would magically make you find the section under the break. (wills you to it) And yes, I was starting based on the last line from ch. 3, "And when he woke up, Rath was gone." It didn't occur to me people would forget Rath being gone. Can't imagine why. Something to do with being gone for 6 months, and who are you? Breaking away from your review here for a bit… The good news is there are three or so things you mentioned that I had already noticed, or that you confirmed. I don't feel so bad about those. And there are a few things you pointed out that I hadn't noticed but totally agreed when you said so. There are also three or so things I really thought you'd say something about that you didn't. So… kind of funny. You didn't catch the Hamlet ref? I thought of all the people, you and Shiro would see it. And one of the things you didn't say something about worries me. Like your silence is making me nervous. "My Rath senses are tingling?" (falls over laughing) No! It was a _homing_ beacon **_**obviously**_**! (laughing too hard to get up) Ah, truth… (wipes tears from eyes) …in the manga, Kharl just always seems to be able to find him. I didn't want to try and guess how he did it. Nor did I want to write some long boring scene with Kharl standing naked in the middle of his chambers with rings of symbolry drawn on the floor around him while he prays to heathen gods for help. (swirly eyes) Okay, so maybe that wouldn't have been so boring. But I couldn't think of a way to make it progress anything either—(mutters) other than the fact that Kharl is strange. In any case, I don't feel so bad about that one. The things that were most important in this chapter got said (pat, pat). The Garfakcy stuff? Truthfully, it just never occurred to me. The only reason that scene is there is to keep Garfakcy from disappearing into the ether and for the line "something more," which is actually important. Now that you mention it though… In any case, I'm glad you liked the Darnia scene. I had so much fun writing that! And YES! OMGosh, YES! I was wondering if anyone would figure out which picture I was trying to parallel. (many cookies—ah, pardon, **_**Reese's**_**) And **_**that's**_** how they ended up in the tree in the first place! (nod, nod) But you know what? Overall, I am immensely pleased with chapter 4. I love some of the descriptions and scenes. I definitely think I left out some transitions. But I like the chapter… So assure me of one thing? You 'did' like pieces of it? And… I think this chapter could have used some of the advice you just gave me. Except, somehow, I'm sitting here watching the clock tick and 'knowing' I don't have time to do anything but put it up like I promised. (frustrated) (tired) Maybe I shall pour some of it into 6 now that I have to re-do that scene. **

**To Shiro Ryuu: (boggles over the length) I don't know what's in it yet, but between you and **Sareh** I do believe I am more pleased than I have ever been in my life! (flails happily) People like… my storEEE! Well, first, I sent a review to **Sareh** that was like twice as long as yours. Don't worry… it'll go through. Makes me wonder how long a review 'can' be! And yep! You found the Hamlet reference! (radiates pride) Oh, that makes me happy! But at the same time, I'm glad it wasn't something everybody found. My original fear was that it was too obvious… Yes, the poem's mine. And unfortunately, you are going to get more of my horrible verse… (looks at all the lines you loved) (warm tinglies) You caught most of the ones that 'I' love best! And that makes me even more pleased! Plus a few things 'I' didn't even know were in my story! (amused) Like, I knew the butterflies were ominous and foreshadowing-y, but I never actually thought of associating it with Rath's wings. (takes no credit) The 'gritty gray smear' was also metaphorical. The idea of what happens to things when he touches them… That pleased me. But there was a heck of a lot more alliteration than that. I use alliteration like candy. Purty, purty. The wings and the tufts of fur mixed into the feathers. I do believe my favorite line was the fur and feather one. I'm SO glad someone else thought so! And the wings… (whimsical sigh) …are going to become real. But not like yours! Don't worry! In mine, they're already there. They're just not 'there' there. (cackle) I had SO much fun writing the Darnia scene! (squeals) Oh and it's all warm and fuzzy! That is… until chapter 5, where I get to tear Rath's heart out! MWUAHAHA! And chapter 6 with the whole bloody body scene. And chapter 7 where the 'other' person dies. And chapter 8 where… you get the point. You know though, one of my favorite descriptions that no one mentioned was the shadows of the clock's hands. I actually worked hard on that one! Small though it may be… Man, you don't realize how much work goes into writing a story until you've been through it. And the sad things is, the lines that are actually going to be massively important are the ones everyone looked over. "I trust you" and "There's something more inside of him" and the final foreshadowing of "the shadows won their war with the fire." Oh! Oh wait! We're to the best part! The Crit! (settles down in chair in wide-eyed story-telling fashion… with cocoa) Eep! Oh, actually, you caught something I fretted over for quite a while. I had a feeling that paragraph was going too fast. As **Sareh** noticed, I was having trouble with some of my transitions from one place to another. And unfortunately there's at least one scene in this chapter as well that jumped perhaps a little too far. But I promised I'd get it up. Actually, I'm kind of worried that I screamed Rath's name a little too often as well. (nervous) And you just nailed one of the other things I worry about. I may not have worried about that one specifically, but many of my metaphors and allusions may be too vague. I don't think people catch on to what I'm really saying. Maybe some of it sounds pretty to them, but they don't catch the deeper implication. I'm not entirely sure what to do about this. Some of them work fine. Others cause confusion. But they all seem clear to me. It's one of those things I need a beta-reader for! The two of you are so lucky! But thank you for pointing both of those out. I don't feel too bad about missing them, though, because I still love chapter 4! And now, I am finally half way through your review! And well, you know, with a month to stew over it, I kind of planned out the whole "I shall spam every box she has until she can't go anywhere without seeing me until she's sick of it!" thing. (Shiro never finds the end of it) How long did it take you? 'Cause I certainly had massive amounts of fun sitting there and cackling madly while filling up each and every one of your boxes! I mean, really… your PM box, your email, your comment box, your inventory. Was there a place I didn't find? Sad to learn I didn't overflow your PM box though. One of these days I shall have to try for it. It's 50 messages, right? That's the max? In any case, I'm must glad to hear you had fun reading them. Er, that is, the ones you aren't inclined to kill me for… YES! WE'RE WINNING HER OVER! Did you hear that **Sareh**?! (I know you're reading this) Kharl/Rath father/son isn't so bad! La la la! But obscenely talented… really. (blush) Flatterer. OO! Oh, man! I should have had the demon take over while in Kharl's castle! Man, I missed out! Why don't you tell me these things earlier?! And regarding Rath in Dusis. Not people finding him, but 'him' finding 'people'! He was invisible. Can you imagine the fun I could have had? Like he finds Thatz sleeping in a tree but Thatz can't 'see' him! Everyone's hearing voices… It's the voice of Christmas-past! "I've been a good boy this year!" And really, Rath may be reunited with the DraCla (stares at the strange, vampire-imagery-inducing abbreviation) here sooner than you might think. (smirk) That is to say, you never know what I have planned in my devious little brain! Also, the Indian Demon 'do' win! I almost planned a scene in which Rath, Kharl, and Garfakcy wake up to find they've been kicked out of the castle. Kharl has to declare war… And OMGosh! Your review response just pushed me past 6000 words for this chapter, and you don't even want to KNOW what o' clock it is in the morning. I have two finals tomorrow! (runs) **


	6. Half my Soul

SPECIAL AWARDS:

Special thanks to: **Distorted Gaze** for beta-reading this.

**Animesyndrome**: Yay! You correctly guessed the next death! I'm not going to say which one of those is right, but one of them is. Free cookies!

**Shiro** and **Sarehptar**: Do I even need to 'say' you guys get cookies?

And just… everybody else who's still here!

**

* * *

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Only a couple things! I swear! First, those chemical compounds from last chapter? They turned out to be protein and plant food. ((falls over)) Maybe if you're really creative you can still make them explode? ((sly)) (thank you Sareh!)

Also, ((weep)) **Sarehptar** managed to catch an ERROR in my story (though she doesn't realize it yet). Cookies to her. When I said "sunlight" in the last chapter when Kharl found Rath, it should have been "moonlight," because let me tell you, Kharl didn't wait hours 'till morning to go get Rath.

WARNING: References to spoilers!!! And you need to know what really happened to Rath and Kharl!

**To understand this chapter, it's imperative you understand Kharl and Rath's background. This is the background story I'm working with: **

**Rath's story in a nutshell (by Leeayre):** Kharl uses half his soul to create a winged demon more powerful than even himself. Later this demon would be called Rath, but for now he is known as the Demon King of Arinas. Together they rule, occasionally dealing with some Arinain trying and sometimes succeeding in killing Rath. Finally, one bright Arinain (the King of Arinas) realizes, hey, this demon isn't dying, what's going on? He kills Rath and locks his soul in a black casket, which he then gives to the Western King (Lykouleon or his predecessor). Kharl is furious. He traps and repeatedly murders the Eastern King in increasingly horrific ways, finally staking his soul into the soil of the dark underworld. Time passes. Finally Rath's casket is broken open. His soul inhabits Illuser's body, but he is half-crazy. He tears through Dusis, only to be finally stopped by Lykouleon and his Officers. Lykouleon turns him into a little black-haired Dragon who has no memories of his past by infusing Rath with his blood. Kharl finds out about it and goes to retrieve Rath, resulting in the catastrophe of Black Education in book 12. He manages to revert Rath to his true form, but everything goes horribly wrong and he ends up losing Rath. At this point, the events from the actual DK series take place.

And with that, I really hope you enjoy this chapter… It's my favorite!

**Chapter 6**

Half my Soul

**Half my soul to make you whole,**

**My breath to make you live—**

**The things for you I wouldn't do,**

**The things I wouldn't give…**

Gently, lovingly, he drew the broken body into his arms and to his chest, as close to his heart as he could manage. And the sheets released the body, clinging to one foot almost tenderly for a few seconds before finally falling free. Perhaps the sheets sensed something of the chilly pall behind Kharl's gaze—something in the heavy still that seemed to saturate the room.

Not again!

It was just like last time…

_Rath hadn't come home that night. And Kharl had had that feeling he wasn't _going _to be coming home either. Not tonight. There had been times before when Rath hadn't come home, of course, and Kharl had found him dead. Every now and then one or more of the Arinain people got it through their heads to try and kill him, and every now and then they succeeded. So it wasn't totally unusual. Kharl had taken the number of Rath's fatalities with some degree of annoyance, and even that night, as he sat and waited and scowled out the window at the darkening horizon, his fingers tapped sharply against the spine of his book. And even when Kharl gave up and went to find Rath, the only thing he _really_ thought was, _Not again. _Not_ again. _And even when he found the body covered in the Arinain King's magical stench… and crouched down to check that it really was dead, pressing one hand to the course black robes… only to watch blood bubble up through his splayed fingers. Never did Kharl consider that something might be terribly wrong. _

_Not until he tried to summon the soul back… _

And then it _all _seemed wrong—seemed to leave him breathless. Stupid details. Strange that the skin should so perfectly match his cloak. Strange that the head should loll back so. Strange that the arms should hang so limply.

_The terrible stillness_.

And it was cold. So cold. This thing… it… No! It wasn't!

_Surely not!_

It _couldn't_ be! Let it not be!

_Surely it wasn't…_

It was something else, and had nothing to do with… but it _was_…

"Rath…"

…_gone._

He choked over the name—choked over associating the name with… this thing. There were long, bloody gashes near the temples, around the ears, where clawed nails had torn long furrows in the skin. Blood clotted in the fine strands of hair and ran down the side of the face in red rivulets. It was a mess. But other than that, the body was not harmed. It shouldn't have been… _swallow_… have been so cold. Kharl brushed the wounds with his hand—a hand held deliberately steady—touched the pale lips with the now bloody tips of his fingers, staining them a splotchy scarlet like a sort of ghastly lipstick, and cradled the head to his shoulder. Only to watch it fall back again. "Rath…Wake up." He shook it slightly, but the eyelashes didn't even flutter. It refused to move. He shook it again, still gently, _afraid_ to shake harder, afraid to break it. Sure that this was some sort of horrible trick. Sure that the second time something would change. Or the third. Or the fourth. Until he stopped, horrified by what he was doing. But… Why didn't it respond? He couldn't understand. Why didn't it move? Why didn't it curl into the crook of his elbow? Why didn't it turn towards his warmth like it had before? Some part of him, some buried part, knew what this meant…

"Nooo…" Kneeling there, in the soft down of the carpet, cradling the body… Kharl buried his face in the fine black hair and began to rock back and forth. His eyes squeezed tight. In the darkness he didn't have to see… didn't have to feel…

And as he pressed his face to the pale, white skin, the blood smeared across his own pale face in beautiful red streaks.

_There was a sound inside him—a sort of shrieking. And it only rose in pitch as he fought the steel-hard tremors that threatened to consume him in a conflagration of violent shaking. He bit down into his lip to stop it, and felt blood well into his mouth._

"No." He felt black strands of hair tangle in his mouth, across his lips, but he didn't care. Not even that he could _taste_ the blood now. Anything… anything to be closer… this part of him he held in his hands. Anything to hold off the pain he knew was coming for just a second longer.

"No!" Because he was beginning to feel again…

"NO!" And the pain of realization, of understanding, shattered the calm numbness that had been protecting him. He knew what it was… this thing he was holding. And he knew what it _had been_. And the storm that was his heart howled. "_NO_!" He was screaming now, screaming at the merciless white walls and the silent shadows. How could you let this happen? Bloodless hands clutched the body so tight he was surprised it didn't break. But he didn't stop… He _couldn't stop._ "Wake up! Wake up! Please wake up!" He shook it harder, _harder, Harder_.

What could have done this!

_The King of Arinas! This was _his _fault! _

Garfakcy came running to the doorway… and stopped. One hand rose, as though to reach out to the figure kneeling, _rocking_, _shuddering_ on the floor, surrounded by a dusting of black feathers. But he could only stand there, eyes wide.

And Kharl continued to scream…

_The sound of it cracked off the stone. _

"_What have you done with him!! Where is he?!!" _

"NOOO! C-Come back!" He was choking now, trying to force the words from a throat that seemed stuck shut.

_"I know you have him! Where IS he?!" _

_Someone… shrieking, choking… _

_"Why won't you talk?!" _

…_gurgling into silence. It took Kharl a while to realize it had stopped, that his hands were now holding what might have been mistaken for a large chunk of meat. And all that blood. That was right… that first time the screaming didn't last very long. So short. _Too_ short. But the second time there _was_ no blood, and the screaming lasted a lot longer. And a third time… _

_And after a while Kharl found he couldn't even remember what his question had originally been or whether it had been answered. He couldn't remember anything but the fading rage that had consumed him. In the end he had to ask one of the King's officers. And when he understood the answer, he killed _that_ man too… _

"Please come back!"

_It was gone now. It might _never_ be back. The very thought almost caused the hideous cacophony inside him to break free. He clamped down harder on his self-control. _

_It took hours for the shrieking inside to die down and drain away and become a void—a hole where there was not even despair. Hours before he trusted himself to move. For the first time in his life he knew what it was to be truly helpless. To have the power to do anything, and to suddenly realize it could do nothing. And the days that had followed… Or worse, the nights—when the emptiness of the Arinain continent seemed to settle like a shroud around him and make a home of his heart. Long, desolate nights when he must face the nothingness inside. Anything, even pain would have been preferable. Kharl couldn't even _feel

Not like now. Now he could do what he hadn't been able to back then… and he'd do anything to go back. He felt as though he were crying out little bits of himself. Something had shattered, and his body was expelling it in tear-like shards. Because Rath had taught him how to be happy. And knowing now what happiness was…

He wasn't going to go back. That's what it came down to. He wasn't going to go back to being without it. He wasn't sure he could _live_ without it now.

Suddenly Kharl's mouth twisted in a snarl. Suddenly long claws gripped the impossibly still body, drawing blood. White feathers seemed to explode out of nowhere, sending the black ones scattering.

Garfakcy's eyes widened. He tried to take a step forward, but was repulsed. "Master Kharl!"

If he couldn't go through it again, then he wouldn't.

_To know there was hope and have to live with it day after day, never able to move on because of it… _

_Hope was its own hell. _

His power gathered, and the feathers began to dance and swirl on the eddying tides. More. So that he began to feel the searing agony of it inside him. But an agony that dwarfed in comparison to the fires of loss. More. He felt it begin to consume him… This body, and this façade of life. Soon they would all be gone.

And then…

"Auh…" A sound! Like the guttering of a candle. Kharl's eyes snapped open. He went still, barely daring to breathe. Even the spiraling feathers seemed to halt in mid-air. But the sound didn't repeat. Frantically, he reached out… out of himself. And the world took on a clarity that was almost blinding. Distances shifted. The edges of desks and drawers and doors all seemed deeper, sharper. So that it became painful to look at them. While other things seemed to suddenly glow. There were three glowing objects in the room. One stood at the door. One was himself. And the last… Kharl felt his breath catch… was shredded almost beyond recognition. Deep, ragged lacerations covered its surface. Bits of it hung in long tatters. Smaller wisps, like mini fireflies, floated about in the air. And it dripped a steady stream of darkly bright liquid onto the cold stone floor. A small trail of splatter marks led back to the bed, where the sheets and blankets and pillows had been soaked.

It had been utterly mauled. And yet… all that damage, it had only been done to one side. There was something almost methodical in the way the lacerations ended so neatly at the same point. Almost like, that one half, it hadn't wanted to damage…

Kharl reached out and pulled the shattered soul into himself, encasing it safely in his own flesh. Somehow that seemed safest. Besides, he couldn't _stop_ himself from satisfying the desire to _know_ it again—that special sort of knowing. To feel it fill him up—make him whole. The soul shuddered. Maybe it knew too. To be whole again, when neither of them had been whole in so long… There was an almost painful pleasure in it. And also a power… A power Kharl hadn't known in years—not since the day he'd divided his soul to create half of the black-haired boy Lykouleon had named 'Rath.' Maybe if he'd been there—when it had happened—maybe that extra strength would have saved the soul from being ripped away from him. The sort of strength that now sprung from their reunion—strength to dwarf the power that had almost incinerated his soul before. But he knew he was going to need it. Surveying the broken, bloody mass that remained, he was at a loss for even where to start.

A broken sort of laugh bubbled across his lips. How had things gone so wrong? He'd had the best of intentions when he'd abducted Rath. But now… now everything was shattering, and he was no longer sure how long he could keep piecing the shards back together.

The shards of a soul…

Gathering himself, he surveyed the fragments. After all, this was what mattered. Not the shell that lay brokenly on his lap. Not that glass casing. But the soul.

* * *

Garfakcy leaned against the far side of the closed door, remembering how to breathe. He'd thought… There for a moment, he'd thought… 

He'd never seen Kharl like that. Not with that expression on his face. Determined, yes. Quizzical, yes. Even angry. But never terrified. And never, _never_ hopeless. That was the worst—that look of utter defeat. Like nothing mattered anymore.

But it was alright now.

Slowly, Garfakcy made his way down the stairs. He knew all that was left to do was wait. And wait he did. 'Till he was sure no living being could go so long without eating or drinking or moving. 'Till he was sure Kharl would never again step foot outside that room. And when he had waited so long that the uncertainty had him staring at the door handle for hours on end in worried silence, he waited longer…

* * *

There was no telling of time, or of day. There was no _desire_ to know. The passing of the sun was a physical measurement, designed for a physical world. Here, there was only the telling of strength, and the draining away of it—the amount of it that was left. That was the only time that mattered. And the other world—the one that trickled by around the two bodies in ephemeral blue and green flashes—was the counterfeit. It mattered so little that Kharl had to constantly remind himself to keep his body alive. As he lost strength, it became harder and harder to remember that things like breathing were necessary. _So_ hard to take that breath they both needed so desperately. Hard to remember to make their heart beat. 

And then, at last, there came a moment when he realized he was finished—that it was once again capable of breathing and beating and living on its own.

For a moment Kharl clung to it desperately, unwilling to once again take on the burden of being separated from it. Knowing that if he didn't let it go it would once again become a part of him, incapable of mischievous smiles and ruffled black hair. This broken angel. This martyred child. He placed it carefully back in its casing. If he reached out now, all he could do was press his hands to the glass skin that separated them.

Kharl leaned back against the wall, feeling the bottomless tug of exhaustion trying to pull him down. But… it was okay. _Everything_ was okay. He laughed shakily and reached down to flick a stray strand of black hair away from Rath's face. More than that was a struggle. There were bloody streaks across the immaculate floor. Yet, it was okay. Both of them were a ghastly mess with unearthly pale skin. Rath looked half-drugged wearing only strips of a shredded shirt, but… Rath! This was Rath! And suddenly Kharl didn't care that he could barely remain sitting up. He leaned forward and enfolded the boy in his embrace, oh so careful of the crumpled black wings that dragged brokenly on the floor. Wings that spilled across his lap in ebony pools. How the sight thrilled him! His own white wings folded protectively around them. _If I could, I would hold you like this in the circle of my wings forever._ And, for a moment, he reveled in the feather-light caress of silken hair against his cheek and the feel of downy feathers in his arms. The handfuls of softly ruffled down crushed between his fingers. He couldn't seem to hold him tight enough.

There was a slight stirring.

"Kharl?" At the whispered sound of his name, Kharl pulled back to stare down at the pale face. Eyelashes fluttered weakly over eyes that couldn't seem to focus properly—that stared up into empty air. One hand lifted half-heartedly and fell back. Worried, Kharl quickly silenced Rath with the fingers of his free hand.

"Hush now." He caressed one pale cheek with those same delicate fingers. He just couldn't seem to stop _touching_ him. It was the only way Kharl could reassure himself this was all real. That this was Rath. All of it. The feel of fur and feathers and smooth skin. The smell of his blood. The faint sigh of his breaths. "Go to sleep. I'll still be here when you wake. It'll be alright." There was a constricting pressure around his heart again, but this time it was the fluttering constriction of joy. In the cradle of Kharl's arms, eyelashes fluttered closed.

For the longest time, he sat there, staring down at Rath, _knowing_ him, unwilling even to loosen his hold. Until exhaustion pulled him into a half-conscious stupor. Until finally, he leaned back against the wall, settling Rath against his chest, and closed his eyes…

* * *

Lykouleon sat on the cold windowsill and stared out across the horizon, towards the purple haze that was Kainaldia. The chill of it seeped through his thick cloak and gloves—a chill to match the cold trails of blood that snaked down his arm, despite his best attempts to stop them—a chill that was inside him even now. But what weighed heaviest on his heart was another matter. 

The joy that had spread through the castle with Cesia's return had been quickly eclipsed by the realization that not all was as well as it seemed. Something had been left behind, somewhere in that purple haze…. Something that could force both Dusis and Arinas to their knees…

_He's gone_. All it had taken was those two words to steal their hope and smother the castle in oppressive stillness. But Raseleane had taken it hardest of all. It pained him to see her wandering around the castle each day, taking painstaking care of things that didn't really matter. Like now. She was hovering over the flower arrangement on his desk, fussing over how long the stems were and whether they were the right color and in the right place. She'd been at it for an hour. And he couldn't help but notice that one of the white carnations had long since been twisted to tatters in her grip. He hated to see her like this. But he understood…

Rath had come to them as a demon, yes—shattered, broken, feral and half-crazed—but _so _broken it was reduced to acting on its survival instincts like any child! It had been like coming face to face with all the children he'd never have. This lost demon represented all the children he, himself, had lost. And he'd found that he couldn't hurt it, no matter what it'd done. But it was more than that. Nadil had done more than break Raseleane's heart. He'd ensured the end of the Dragon's reign—the end of all of Dusis. There wasn't a day Lykouleon didn't feel the weight of his kingdom's fate on his mind, for without an heir there would never be anyone powerful enough to rule after him. And yet, here, in the body of his dearest companion—as though it were some sort of sign—was a demon powerful enough to not only rule and protect Dusis, but to make other nations fall down in fear. One so powerful it could only be the heir of a demon as great as Nadil, and capable of being raised as a Dragon if its memories were erased.

No, he hadn't killed it. Instead, he'd brought it home, hoping that Raseleane would see what he'd seen. And he hadn't been disappointed. Raseleane had fallen in love with the child instantly, from the very moment he'd reached out to touch the pretty sequins on her dress, and she'd wrapped her arms around him and held him close and cried tears of joy while the child tried to squirm free. Lykouleon chuckled inwardly at the memory. She adored Rath as though he were her own.

And now, to lose him…

Something had to be done.

With a sudden clatter, the door to his chamber was flung open. Lykouleon knew who it was even before he turned to look. The new Red Dragon Officer had a sort of forceful presence that could be felt a room away. And forget formalities…

"We know where Rath is."

Yes. It was past time… _to get Rath back_…

* * *

**Rath Moments #3**: **What ever happened to Right Bird in this story?**

Kharl: (observing Rath's dead body) Right Bird, I need you!

(silence)

Kharl ((confused)): Right Bird?

(scrabbling sounds, followed by a desperate "BuCAW!") (Right Bird runs into the room on its feet, flapping stubby little, featherless wings and running in frantic flightless circles)

Kharl: ((horrified)) ((staring at the naked turkey that's replaced his beautiful bird)) Right Bird, what happened!

Garfakcy: I think maybe you left it alone a little too long. It molted! (dumps huge pile of black feathers onto the ground)

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**Dear Readers, **

**I've been getting some reports that people are confused about what's going on. A brief summary: Book 22! This is where my story comes in. When Cesia splits Rath apart, unbeknownst to her, his soul is sealed in the little red stone Kharl gave Rath. Kharl then retrieves the stone and brings Rath back, erasing his memories. But things don't go so well… Rath is repeatedly attacked while he sleeps—not just his body, but his soul! Kharl doesn't realize anything has happened at first, but the second time it happens Rath's attacker manages to slice into his soul, into the half of it that's Kharl's soul. And the third time it manages to pretty much kill Rath. To heal the damage, Kharl briefly merges their souls. **

**There. Any questions?**

**So, at 7 reviews for my last chapter, I am overwhelmed! I never thought this story would get so much attention! Not for Dragon Knights at least… But now I've met so many new and totally awesome people! (And gaul, if there aren't so many of you now that half of this is now dedicated to review responses…) You're the reason I'm still writing this, so this is to you—the people I know, the people I don't know, and even the people who have declined to be more than a number on my hit count! **

**And I'm dying to know if anyone has a guess as to what's been attacking Rath! **

**((prays for 32 reviews)) O.O **

**-Leeayre**

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**CHAPTER 7 PREVIEW:**

Garfakcy grills Kharl (oo, there's muffins involved in here somewhere, eh heh). Rath is given a _very _special sword. Kharl begins to suspect what's going on, but before he can do anything… Cesia finally arrives! Yay! Along with another unknown character. Isn't it horrible that I have no idea who it's going to be? ((sweat)) He doesn't have a very big part, that's why, I swear! Hmm. Anyone have a preference between Bierrez and Gil? ((grin))

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**REVIEW RESPONSES:**

To **Shiro Ryuu** AND **Sarehptar**: Because, really, what's the point in writing two separate responses anymore? Man Shiro, you don't even WANT to know how hard it was to get that kind of crit out of Sareh! It works like this: she knows all, but she insists that we do not want to be burdened with the amazing inner workings of her brain. So she hogs them all to herself, and we must get them out of her! We may go about things totally different some times, but I always loving hearing what she has to say. If you listen carefully, you'll pick up some really good advice. After all, I don't know everything! But this time, there happens to be a couple things I want to debate the wisdom of. Ah, Shiro nailed one of the things I wanted to tell you, Sareh. ((confused)) I'm thinking of it the same way Shiro is. He's not 'dreaming.' There is no 'place.' It's a dreamscape in that he has some sort of awareness of existing. But there is just… 'nothing' else there. I picture him floating in darkness. Thus the darkness references all over the place. It would be like… standing in a pitch black room, aware that there may be other things out there, but unable to see more than the floor beneath your own feet. And up 'till now, there has never been anything else there. But suddenly there is. And he can't 'see' it because of the darkness. But he can 'hear' it, if you want to call it hearing. I'm not sure what to do about this—if I should place him in a physical sort of landscape. But then… Kharl took his dreams away. He shouldn't be seeing 'anything.' ?? So I'm going to let it go in light of the fact that I'm conflicted over what to do about this. It won't really matter from here on out anyway. So second, the vagueness. Once again, I am of two minds. If for a slightly different reason. First of all: I very much dislike telling my readers everything. It's kind of like, I am going to assume my readers are clever and therefore not insult them by spelling everything out. When I wrote about the body on the bed, I figured you'd all jump to the logical conclusion that it was Rath. On the OTHER hand… I think what you are really saying is that my 'image' itself lost its clarity. On this I agree. My mind got split while writing it, because in order for me to do my whole "Kharl breakdown" thing this chapter, Kharl could not admit to himself that Rath was 'dead.' I wanted there to be a very clear distinction between "Rath" and "this thing" in Kharl's mind. This is what Shiro was talking about when she said "your technique." I very, VERY clearly avoided saying 'is.' "Rath 'is' this thing." Because I wanted you as a reader to piece it together and pity Kharl more. So it was important Kharl not think "Rath is dead." But at the loss of clarity (for my final line even!), it was a heavy price to pay. I ALMOST tore that chunk of Kharl's off the end of that chapter and added it to 6. Because Shiro knew what was coming (only because I was showing her something!) she was able to see where I was going with it. Maybe there was a better way I could've ended it… ((mutter, mutter)) But on to the other vague part (and the beginning of the stuff in 6 that Shiro 'didn't' know about). Why Kharl is connected to Rath. Well, if you read this chapter, then you know. On this at least, I have a solid answer. Kharl doesn't feel anything when Rath's body gets sliced up. Otherwise he would have been screaming LONG before now. No. He only feels it when Rath's 'soul' is hit! Which, up until now, it has not been. I very, VERY carefully ended that first non-sound scene BEFORE Rath could get nailed. However, I think I may try to spell this out next chapter. I want to make sure even the massively confused people are at least decently caught up. So the mysteries that should still be half-mysterious (if you haven't put 2 and 1 together from some of my half-hints) are the non-sound, and what Rath has that it wants. ((wink))

To **Sarehptar**: Chapter four, cute and pointless! ((falls over)) I know it's true. There was a point to it, but it's rather minor and won't make a difference 'till chapter 8. And okay, I've discussed most of that second and third paragraph already. Hopefully you now understand the connection between Kharl and Rath. Can you imagine how thrilled I was to read 25 and find Ohkami had just confirmed this entire chapter! I mean, this theory was the main backbone for my entire story, and I'm just 'dazed' to find I actually guessed right! ((grin)) Regarding the gap between Kharl getting to Rath… as I mentioned in the beginning, that was actually an error caused by my mentioning sunshine I think. I didn't mean to make it sound like any time passed besides what it took to get down the hall. ((flails) Yes! I agree! I think this is my fault. It's not like I'm not planning on explaining! Really! It's several things… First, I really like setting up mysteries and prolonging the suspense by not explaining everything right away. It's fun. Second, sometimes I 'can't' explain right away because it isn't an opportune time—sometimes it's right in the middle of some other big thing that's going on, and I can't just halt everything for a dictionary entry! But the biggest reason is simply because I have a terrible time telling when something 'needs' to be explained immediately and when it works perfectly as a mystery. ((groan)) I wish I had a beta some days. I'm especially worried about the ending and whether or not it'll work and make the story seem complete. Even just somebody I could explain everything to would help me organize it in my head. But don't worry! Even if it 'is' too late to explain everything now, I was already planning on making ch. 7 the chapter of explanations. A lot of things will get explained there. Though there a few things I won't 'spell out' until ch. 8. But if you're good, you'll catch on anyway. ((wink)) ((pokes you)) I figured you see that. ((grin)) But since you didn't actually 'say' you had, I could only list Shiro. I know you see a lot more than you mention. You are a Writing Tutor after all. That's something I noticed with DG as well when she beta-read this. She was really good at helping me with coherency like I'd asked, but she didn't bother telling me what I'd done right. This was fine. I didn't really care. But I think it's important as a beta-reader and as a Writing Tutor to point out the positive aspects. But as a reviewer, I don't mind, because Shiro balances you out perfectly! ((grin)) But that's one thing I always do when I beta Shiro. Sure, there are days when I tear something to ribbons (how does she stand me? I'd be in tears!), but there are just as many times when I sit there gasping and pointing! Oh! I can't wait for you to see Purple! ((squeal)) Oh, and about Garfakcy! ((chuckles happily)) He gets a good-sized part in the next chapter! Sometimes you read my mind the chapter 'before' I was already planning on it! Remember those explanations I was talking about next chapter? Garfakcy decides not to take no for an answer… Of course Rath isn't 'permanently' dead! I hate killing people permanently! But the death scenes are so fun to write… ((stares away)) Cesia's role however… She 'does' have a reason for being there, but she doesn't play a big part in the end. In fact, I'm still trying to figure out how to detain her for half a chapter or so while the main scene plays out. I'm worried about it—bringing her in for such a small reason… ((purses lips)) The significance of the grey eyes… ((laughs)) …well, I wasn't thinking of them being that significant really, but now… they may come back later. ((sneaky)) As long as it doesn't get too close to what Shiro's doing! Must… separate stories… in brain! As for whether or not Kharl dies! ((Cheshire grin)) Truly, only time will tell! But I'll tell you this. I thought of 26 ways to end this thing and at least 15 alternate endings, and in 14 of those… Kharl died. -.- But whee! I did something Sareh actually called 'excellent'! ((takes a moment to allow for awed silence)) I shall have to strive for this declaration again… Protein and plant food. ((snort)) It's probably for the best. Oo! Forget standing naked in the room! I want him in the bed! ... :D And if you tell ANYBODY I said that… !

To **Shiro Ryuu**: Oo! Krimpets! And yes yes! Please list them all! Really! I love hearing it! I mean, I put more time and thought into this than any sane person should, and it makes me happy that someone else is able to pick out how much minute detail went into some of those lines! ((bounces)) And look even! I've picked up your habit of double parenthesis! ((sweats)) I don't know about that, really, the two of you are such geniuses as well! In totally different ways, but just… I want to write like YOU! ((flail)) So, besides eerie, did you notice how I intentionally left out who the body actually was? Now there's _another_ technique I've picked up from you! ((wink)) In this chapter as well, and even in the next, I've started to notice how much I toy with identifying objects. Sometimes you know what's being described, and sometimes your mind makes the connection without having to be told. What does that do for you as a reader? Most of the time you play the part of one of the characters. You identify with Rath or Kharl or whoever's talking, right? But what happens when you aren't given a character? Or when you are, but you aren't told for sure who it is? It's an interesting concept. You know what's really sad? "Stickily" isn't a word. ((pouts)) It should be! I claim it as a word! Although 'now' you're finding meaning in my story that even I didn't intend! I like the idea that the blood could represent his old hatred, although at the time I was simply trying to indicate how close Kharl's memory spell is to breaking. Things are beginning to seep through… And really, you never know with me! Sometimes I did indeed mean for it to have three different connotations! For instance, "He could no longer tell whether the wetness was rain or blood or tears. It really was red. And it was cold. Cold rain. Cold blood." There are multiple concepts going on there. I was banking on the idea of "murder in cold blood" and "his tears are blood." ((giggles)) Yes, Sareh is very scary! ((whispers conspiratorially)) But running something by her is a very good way of testing it! ((wink)) But NOOO! ((flails)) You can't have Rath and Garfakcy joining forces there! It'd be like leaving You-Know-Who (and I'm so not talking about Voldemort) alone with an innocent, poor, defenseless, unsuspecting Garfakcy! Oh gaul… ((has images of Kharl coming up to find Rath gnawing happily on Garfakcy's shin-bone)) O.o Oh! I love that line! ((bounces)) Okay, so it's my own line, I'd better like it. But I really like that one anyway! And "being forced to let go." I'm 'sure' you caught the double reference there of course. And oh good, I was really worried that "dotingly dark despair" was laying it on a little thick. ((looks about a bit frantically)) I told you what was going on? I think I might have been just prolonging your paranoia. No actually, Rath really does have something it wants! ((snickers)) And if you're really clever, now that you've read this chapter, you should know what it is. ((smirk)) Man, it's killing me to not give it away! Must… hang on! Regarding the connection between Rath and Kharl. ((thoughtful hum)) I have not left it unexplained. Sometimes I'm vague to make it more mysterious, yes. And sometimes I'm vague because it's just not going to be explained yet. And yes, I agree that you 'do' sometimes do that. Explain something too much, I mean. Or rather, you set up this scenario where you've allowed us to decide what we want to believe, but then later… you make up our minds for us. I've only seen two or three places where you've done this, and both of them are in Purple. I think I already mentioned one—the kiss? And 'sometimes'… you actually don't explain 'enough'! This causes confusion, like back in My Immortal. But generally you're very clear, and I think that's a result of explaining things. My way risks ambiguity and confusion. ((rolls eyes)) My last Cloaks review was 2,800 words. Yours is only 1500. ((grin)) Well so now you 'have' seen my wings! What'd you think? They aren't entirely 'real' in my version of course, and they only appear in moments of great trauma. I actually half took the idea from Sareh. Ever since a discussion with her, I've thought of his wings as part of his 'true' form. And therefore in my story they become visible whenever his true form shows through, or whenever he's too weak to maintain any other kind of appearance. This of course has been modified a bit to fit my story. I love the way in DK they just dissolve into feathers which slowly disappear. And for that reason, when I think of his wings appearing, I don't think of them breaking through his back or anything, but rather as feathers that slowly appear and gather into the shape of wings. That's not how it happened in DK, but I've always liked the image. Hee hee. Yes, kagayakiryuu is now MINE! ((cackle)) And of course, now you have yet another email address. ((another cackle)) You'll see what's going to happen to Cesia.

To **Firehedgehog**: Man, it's been so long! Have you gotten any further on that story? I haven't seen anything about it on your profile, though I love the Kharl pic! You go Kharl!

To **catgrl106**: ((giggles)) Of course not! ((horrified)) I couldn't kill one of my favorite characters! Torture him a bit though… that's a different matter. ((wink))

To **Dark Angel Rath**: ((pant, wheeze, gasp)) I am so sorry! I have a response written to you and everything! I just keep forgetting to send it! I will get on it! And in other matters… Course everyone dies! ((maniacal grin)) I LOVE angst! Course, there has to be a happy ending though. I love making my characters suffer, so no, I don't think it's strange at all. Quite the contrary, I can't stand it if there isn't a whole heck of a lot of drama and blood. None of this high school scene stuff. ((nods)) Yeah, looking back, I wish I'd extended that a bit too. But! I tried to make Kharl suffer extra long in this one to make up for it! Suffer Kharl! Suffer! Heh heh. There will be a 'lot' of suffering and death from here on out. ((gloats)) But unfortunately you aren't going to get a lot on what the DT's going through other than that segment from Lykouleon you just read. You'll probably get something from Cesia, but I don't want to introduce a lot of characters for only one chapter. Don't worry, you'll see who dies!

To **CelticGoddess09**: ((sweats)) I don't know if this update was all that 'soon' exactly, but I hope this chapter was good enough to make for it.

To **yume**-**chan59**: ((bounces)) Oo! That's one of my favorite lines too! I'm so glad you liked it!

To **animesyndrome**: This 'is' angst! And don't worry, most of them don't die permanently! Yeah! Whoo-hoo! One of those names is correct! ((won't tell which one)) It makes me happy knowing someone got it…


	7. Waking Up

Not that I think anyone's reading this now that DK is over, but I think it's time to face the bitter, hard truth: I'm not going to get the missing scenes finished in the rest of the chapters. Not while working on the Senior year of a four-year degree and finishing other fics I'm currently finding more interesting. *shamed* With that in mind…

**IMPORTANT WARNING:** This chapter and all subsequent chapters are incomplete. Rather than waste everything I wrote, letting it rot away in the back of my computer, I've decided to post what I have. A half-ending is better than no ending, right? So there are a lot of missing gaps (some pretty important ones) for which I've included summaries briefly in their place. Anything in bold basically are missing pieces.

**Last time on GRB:** Something has been attacking Rath's soul while he's sleeping, and recently became strong enough to tear parts of it to pieces (that pretty effectively equates to death in my mind). Kharl finds Rath dead and briefly encases Rath's soul within his own body while he tries to fix the damage…

**Chapter 7**

Waking Up

"**Yet each man kills the thing he loves,**

**By each let this be heard,**

**Some do it with a bitter look,**

**Some with a flattering word,**

**The coward does it with a kiss,**

**The brave man with a sword!"**

**-Oscar Wilde**

Rath felt decidedly nauseous. But worse was the exhaustion. Like a weight, dragging him down, drowning him in fatigue. There were times he thought with some sort of fogginess that he might have drifted through the sheen that separated reality and sleep. But if he had, it never lasted long. Being awake… seemed like such a hassle. If it weren't for the nausea, he thought he might _prefer_ to be asleep.

Still he was content to let weariness hold him—to drift in the darkness, aware only of the ebb and flow of life and the strangely comfortable feel of another presence beside him, strengthening him, never quite letting him completely slip away. Until finally, with a sort of shock, he woke up, awareness rushing back in upon him. And at first it wasn't so bad. There was something soft wrapped around him, and something warm beside him. It _almost_ felt good.

Until he tried to open his eyes… and about cried out.

The world blurred out of focus into a thousand dizzying colors. The nausea rushed back all at once and he _knew_ he was going to be sick. He fumbled for a bit, trying frantically, weakly to turn over. But the sudden movement only made the darkness spin faster. Blindly, desperately, he pawed until his hands contacted cold floor, and he dry-heaved violently. Again and again. At some point a hand was placed comfortingly on his back. Until finally, he couldn't hold himself up anymore. Then he collapsed, gasping faintly, and let the numbing cold of the floor seep into his bare skin. And the cool hand was placed gently against his sweaty forehead, brushing fine strands of black hair out of his eyes, and he was lifted up. This time the darkness _did_ feel good…

* * *

The next time he woke up, it was to a voice. By his ear. Whispering. "Can you move?" _Che_. What a silly question. Of course he could move… _if_… if he could find the strength to want to… He replied instead with a frustrated frown and opened his eyes. Kharl was beside him.

"Better?" Kharl murmured. 'Better' was a variable word, Rath decided. Better than he had been feeling, maybe. But he certainly didn't feel… _better_.

"What…" He shuddered as he recalled the memories. "What was that… that thing? What happened?"

"The core of you, your soul, was… attacked." Kharl stared upward for a second, struggling. "You're no ordinary demon, Rath. Your soul is very special. Because _you _are special, and because part of your soul was made with mine. Do you understand? Part of my soul lives inside you. And it is this that connects us. And it is this that was damaged."

"Your soul?" Rath queried.

Kharl nodded. "Yes, and a few… other things." No sense burdening the kid with details.

"What about last night? What was that? It… wanted something from me." He shuddered.

Wanted something… A thought flickered in Kharl's mind. Maybe. Was it possible? The thing that was attacking Rath… but it shouldn't have been able to. He would have to check. Best not to alarm Rath until then.

"I don't know."

**Summary: Small discussion here, after which Rath goes to get up and realizes he's stronger the closer he is to Kharl, the other piece of his soul—that putting distance between them brings the nausea back. **

"Wha… What is this?!"

Kharl made a small noise like a 'tut'. "It's the first rule of souls." And he sounded vaguely sad that he should have to explain something so elementary. "Souls will always… seek to be whole. When you are weak you can feel the pull most strongly."

* * *

Garfakcy could barely restrain himself through breakfast. _Some_thing had happened to Rath and Kharl—something that had taken a _week_ to fix. Whatever it was, no one had yet deigned to tell him. The curiosity was driving him crazy. With carefully enforced patience he buttered a muffin and munched quietly. As soon as he could corner Kharl alone…

Looking up, he shot an inquisitive glance at Rath. Usually the kid practically had to be restrained from leaving the table in a muffin-gathering rush. Today he was carefully unwrapping one of the banana nut ones so painstakingly slowly that Garfakcy thought winter might set in before he got to the eating of it. Funny. The kid _looked_ alright, physically at least, which was more than he could have said a week ago.

"Rath," Garfakcy prodded, "One of your demons was in my kitchen again."

"Oh…"

Garkfakcy stared. Rath… not interested in demons? Was this the same kid? Something really _was_ wrong. For the first time, Garfakcy felt something like concern flare briefly.

But luckily Rath seemed to want an excuse to leave anyway. "I guess I'd better go check then." He started to stand up. Garfakcy smothered a triumphant smile, but then…

"Rath," Kharl broke in. "You haven't eaten in a week. Eat your breakfast." Rath sat back down. Garfakcy scowled murder at his muffin. Little crumbs dusted his plate.

Rath pushed his own around on his plate with his fork. After a while he started dividing it into smaller and smaller pieces, never actually putting any of it in his mouth. Garfakcy felt his patience wearing thin.

It seemed to take forever, but finally Kharl finished, standing up and excusing himself. He didn't make it very far though. No sooner had he made it out of earshot of Rath than Garfakcy skittered to a halt in front of him and stood in the hallway, hands on hips, somehow managing to effectively block the path despite his size. "What's going on, Master Kharl?"

"Garfakcy, this really isn't…" Kharl tried.

"I'm not leaving your side until you tell me." His mouth was set in utter obstinacy. Obviously, there would be no getting out of it this time.

"Very well. Follow me then." Kharl swept around him down the hall. There was something he had to check. Having Garfakcy there wouldn't hurt. It was rather like having a shadow. As they walked deeper into the labyrinth of halls that stretched ever longer into the darkness, Garfakcy's shoes scuffed occasionally on the stone floor. But that was the only noise he made. They descended a flight of stairs, then another, deeper and deeper. Finally, Kharl stopped in a particularly shadowy hallway, before a large door covered in symbols Garfakcy didn't recognize. A large deadbolt was securely locked. Chains wrapped around the solid wood.

"What…" Garfakcy whispered.

"Something's been attacking Rath," Kharl replied. "I thought maybe this… But I can't see how. The spells and wards are still firmly in place." With one hand he reached out to touch the symbols burned into the wood. They glowed, active, under his fingers. Everything was as he'd left it all those years ago.

It didn't make sense. If it wasn't this… That last attack had been more powerful, as if whatever was attacking had grown stronger. Kharl shuddered to think what it would be capable of _next _time.

* * *

**Summary: There was supposed to be a scene here where Kharl doesn't want to let Rath out of his sight that night, and Rath stays with him but is way too traumatized to go to sleep… Of course Kharl realizes this and ends up using a spell to make him get some rest. **

* * *

**Summary: The next day, they all congregate in the library, when… **

Suddenly Kharl turned to stare out the window. Garfakcy turned too, but there was nothing there. Nothing except the forest and the sea that was always there. Still, Kharl seemed utterly focused, frowning slightly.

"What is it?" Garfakcy demanded, annoyed. Kharl blinked.

"Ah, we have some… unwanted guests." In retrospect, Kharl realized that was a mistake. He never should have said anything in front of Rath. But well, he couldn't have known, and after the ordeal with Rath earlier they were all ready for a distraction. Surely it couldn't hurt. He stood up. Rath stood up too.

"Demons?"

"I don't know." He hoped so. That might get Rath's mind off… other thoughts. Quickly he went to the shelves and pulled a handful of ash out of a little mahogany chest. It didn't take long to get a picture of the intruders. But they weren't demons. Kharl went deathly still. He'd hoped when he'd initially captured Rath that the Dragon Tribe would simply think the Fire Knight had been killed in Kainaldia. He should have known they'd come. But so far… there were only two. He stared into the ash at the witch with the Staff—Cesia. And she'd even brought that annoying twerp, the Red Dragon Officer, Bierrez. It was an unpleasant situation, but then, Kharl thought, maybe this could be turned into an opportunity—a chance to finally get his hands on the girl.

Rath stood impatiently nearby. "Well? Are they demons?"

"No." Kharl shook his head. How to do this without involving Rath…

"Not humans…?" Garfakcy scowled. Kharl shook his head again.

"I want to go," Rath decided.

"Actually, I want you to stay here," Kharl countered. "Garfakcy will go."

"What?! Leave the fun to him? I'm going too!" Rath's eyes glinted with his determination. Kharl sighed. He definitely should not have told Rath… Once Rath was set on something there was no avoiding it. Even if he made the boy stay, Rath would try to sneak out. Better to be able to keep an eye on him than to leave him to his own devices.

**Summary: Kharl finally agrees, very reluctantly, to let Rath go, though he gives Rath something first… One of the swords of the King of Arinas. **

* * *

**Summary: Rath and Garfakcy go out to greet Cesia and Bierrez… **

Rath positioned himself perfectly among the large, crumbling boulders on the slope. There was only one clear path—the witch and the Dragon would have to come this way. He sat patiently, waiting, sword glittering beside him in the sunlight. Not long now. And sure enough, it wasn't very long before he could hear the loose gravel crunching under the weight of two pairs of feet. As soon as they rounded that next boulder… Rath tensed, sword ready. Then suddenly they were in sight. Their eyes met. And Rath stopped, shocked.

The sense of familiarity was overwhelming. Painful. The long, curly hair. The staff in her hands. He was certain he'd never seen her before, and yet…

"Rath?" Cesia stared, just as startled to find him suddenly before her.

Rath reeled, staggering into the nearest stone wall. That voice! Suddenly the bright sunlight seemed to be splintering in his skull. He clutched at his head. The familiarity of it all, of her, standing there, staring up at him. It hurt—a debilitating sort of pain, the shards of fractured memories stabbing into his consciousness.

**Summary: Cesia tries to go to him, realizing something's wrong, and Rath stabs her out of desperation, trying to make the pain stop. Chapter 7 ends with Bierrez fighting off Garfakcy and Cesia's death… **

* * *

**Author Note:** Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed and been a fan of this story in the past. It's meant so much to me. Wah! I was so happy when Ohkami released the book where Kharl said part of his soul was in Rath! WHOO-HOO! Here's for good guessing! XD A couple people didn't like my synopsis of Rath and Kharl's past last chapter. Of course, I was summarizing, not giving a dissertation on everything that could have happened. I still think it's entirely possible, if Rath was originally created in the state of a child, to have been captured and killed prior to his meeting with the King of Arinas. And yes, as you'll see next chapter, I'm sure Kharl killed the ones responsible. I just think it was particularly bad, what the King of Arinas did, because he didn't just kill Rath, he sealed his soul away for centuries so Kharl couldn't bring him back! Is that better?

**Really quick Review Responses to a few people: **

**Catgrl106:** I hope the summary at the top helped clarify what happened last time. I'm pretty vague sometimes, huh? *abashed*

**Sarehptar:** In retrospect, yes, I probably should have kept it the way it was initially. Flashbacks have this troubling quality of breaking up important scenes, and people get frustrated sometimes with jumping back to the past, even when it's very important. Oh! Yes, I know souls aren't perfectly divided in half! We don't know how much it was, and it was simply easier to simplify it into two main pieces than deal with fractions from a hundred sources.

**Distorted Gaze**: *laugh* I appreciated everything you did, really! I think as the years pass I improve more and more. Even looking back now I can see places I could have done things better.

**Secret For Keeps:** Wah! I can't believe you found so many mistakes! Actually, I do believe it. XD Some of them I feel pretty stupid for missing though. It just goes to show, sometimes it takes an extra pair of eyes.

**Schnickledooger:** Yes, I have to admit when Ohkami said Rath was the Demon King of Arinas, Kharl's master, and yet Kharl created him, I was like, "WHAAAAT?!" You'll see my theory on it next chapter, but I can only assume Kharl called him master because he was 'stronger' than Kharl, or maybe because one of the other pieces of Rath's soul was part of the one who really taught Kharl what he knows? I don't know… We can only guess now.


	8. Ashes to Ashes

**Chapter 8**

Ashes to Ashes

Rath sat on a chair along the wall, feet tucked under and rested on the crossbars. He'd barely moved since he'd helped bring Cesia and Bierrez back with Garfakcy sometime earlier. Bierrez had only been concussed, if rather brutally—physical evidence of Garfakcy's irritation with having been hit twice with the Red Dragon Officer's feathery dart-like weapons. Really, Bierrez was lucky he'd _only _been concussed. Kharl had tended to Garfakcy while they waited for their… _guest _to wake up.

Cesia, on the other hand, hadn't been as fortunate. She'd been brought back dead. Not that this was a problem—it had just taken a bit more work to bring her back to full consciousness. Several vital organs had been damaged when she'd been stabbed. Rath hadn't been gentle. But finally she woke up, groggy and confused at first, then suddenly alert as she realized where she was. She struggled futilely for a few seconds against her restraints—more like experimental twisting to test that she was, indeed, stuck. It would be difficult to get out of _those _restraints. Then, with a small shoulder-loosening shrug, she slumped back, seemingly accepting her position as hostage, and turned to the one confusing element in the room.

She pinned Rath with a questioning stare.

"What are you doing here, Rath? What are you doing with _him_?" She didn't look at Kharl when she said it, as though refusing to acknowledge his existence for the time being. Rath was the only one she saw—the only one that mattered. "Don't you remember us at all?!"

Kharl felt a strange sense of irritation nag at him, particularly when Rath continued to stare at her, half as though her words aggravated him and half as though she were some sort of puzzle to be figured out. Kharl didn't like the way Rath watched her at _all_.

"Kharl…" Rath turned to him questioningly. "Why does she know my name?"

"She just wants to confuse you," Kharl replied, staring at Cesia as though daring her to contradict him. Rath brushed a hand against his temple, and then quickly turned the gesture into a sweeping motion as if to push stray strands of hair out of his eyes a little too late. Kharl caught him by the wrist and jerked the boy up into his arms. Rath stiffened at first, surprised, but didn't pull away. One hand rose slowly, uncertainly, to catch in the alchemist's sleeve, steadying them. Kharl brushed Rath's temple with the cool fingertips of one hand, echoing the boy's earlier movement. Rath's eyelids swept shut at the touch. Kharl whispered into his ear. "Does it hurt?" Maybe Cesia's presence was putting pressure on the spell that kept Rath's memories dormant. There really was no point in pushing it further. Cesia was watching the two of them with a very unhappy look on her face. Smirking knowingly at her over Rath's shoulder, he whispered again, "Maybe you should step outside for awhile."

Cesia's eyes darkened watching them, but there was nothing she could do when Rath nodded vaguely in response to Kharl's suggestion, and releasing him, walked out the door.

* * *

In the hall, away from Kharl's protective gaze, Rath clutched his head and stumbled against the wall. He'd hoped getting away from that girl would make the pain dissipate. But the headache that had plagued him ever since seeing her for the first time seemed to be increasing instead, jabbing into his skull, prizing apart his mind.

"Ugh." He moaned, doubling over as his vision blurred. Who was she, this Cesia? And what was it about her that left him with a feeling like déjà-vu and a horrible headache? The cold stone of the wall seemed to ease the pain a bit at least. He pressed his forehead against it wearily and wrapped one arm around his own waist, curling in on himself tightly.

"_Rath_." It was an all too familiar voice. He lifted his eyes, peering down the long, empty hall. Funny, was Garfakcy calling him? Was that Garfakcy's voice? He shook his head, trying to clear it, then immediately moaned and pressed it back against the cold wall. But the voice was compelling, and despite the pain, he found himself getting to his feet. He was surprised for a second to find himself suddenly standing, but then the voice called again…

"_Rath_." And he found himself following it, treading across the cold stone down the hallway. That sound… it wasn't Garfakcy. But it was achingly familiar and distant, like a very old memory, a _precious_ memory—one he couldn't quite recall. His feet found their way blindly down a flight of stairs, then down another. Still so far away. As he mused over the voice, it called again, slightly louder this time, closer, and he suddenly remembered where he'd heard it recently. His dreams.

With a startled cry, he jerked, flinching away from the voice. But there was no escape. His feet continued to carry him forward, one step then another, down cold hallways. The voice, ever present, calling him, compelling him. Rath could only watch, mesmerized, unable to fight off the compulsion that was dragging him onward.

There was the lightest pressure in his head now, apart from the headache, and as he traversed deeper into the castle, it increased. The voice was louder now too—louder, closer. And the further down he went, down flights of stairs and along passageways he couldn't recall having ever seen, the more control the compulsion seemed to have over him. He began to feel wrapped up inside himself, unable to run, unable to scream. And the pressure by the end of it was a terrible thing, like the edge of a knife pressed to his consciousness. And just when he thought he could stand no more, he came to a sudden halt in front of a large wooden door. Strange symbols he couldn't read had been burned into the wood and large chains wrapped around it.

As he stood there, staring at it, the pressure in his skull suddenly grew to a deafening crescendo. Already weakened by Cesia and Bierrez's arrival, the first memory spell shattered easily. Rath gasped under the sudden deluge of memories. Illuser. The Dragons. A Fire Knight. _Cesia_… oh heck, Cesia! Rath's eyes opened wide.

But before he could dwell too much on the details, the pressure returned, stabbing into old memories. This time there was no spell to break, only years and years worth of repression. Sensing what was coming, Rath tried futilely to twist away from the probing presence in his mind. There were some things he didn't _want _to remember. But it was no use. Mercilessly, his memories were pulled to the surface, _flick flick flick_. Kharl. Black wings. The people of Arinas. A black-clad king. _Dying… _

Rath lost consciousness for a moment under the deluge, drowning in the memory…

_As… _annoying_ as it was, death had never really bothered Rath. Or at least, it didn't frighten him. So what if the King of Arinas killed him now? Kharl would just bring him back, perhaps with some sort of lecture on responsibility. Not that he intended to die; on the contrary, he had no intentions of letting himself be killed… After all, death might not frighten him, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either. The first time had been the worst, not knowing what to expect, that falling feeling of helplessness as the world faded away. That first time… it had frightened him. He'd been young and inexperienced, and the villagers had been desperate to wound Kharl in any way they could, and torturing any demons wandering innocently through the woods counted just fine. Unfortunately, having snuck out of the castle, Rath had fallen into that category. He had not appreciated the hour of sharp knives and searing torches and clawing hands and brutal kicks that had ultimately left him to face the terrifying darkness of death, cold and alone. _

_When he'd woken up sometime later, he'd found himself settled peacefully back in his own bed, Kharl's long fingers brushing his cheek, and he'd thrown himself around the older man, crying inconsolably from the memory of it all and shuddering. And Kharl had whispered that it was alright, that they'd never hurt him again, and held him close until he'd drifted back into fitful sleep. At the time, Rath had thought Kharl meant he'd protect him, but looking back now… Rath was pretty sure Kharl had just killed them. Kharl didn't tolerate anyone who messed with him or his. _

_Two things had resulted from that particular experience however… Rath didn't feel the desire to sneak out of the castle again for a long time. And secondly, when he was older and free to wander wherever he wished, he felt no qualms about taking human life. Living with Kharl probably didn't help. But Kharl's interest in the local human population was more along the line of scientific discovery, and he was content to ignore the vast majority of them, except for one or two here and there for a research project or if they posed a threat. Rath, on the other hand, often went out of his way to kill them, slaughtering indiscriminately whenever he felt particularly vengeful, or just plain bored. After all, Kharl was often holed up in his study with a book or a project, leaving Rath to his own devices, and the local human population was an endless source of amusement. It wasn't long before rumor of him—of the Demon King of Arinas—spread across the country. _

_Ultimately, it was this tendency that brought divine retribution down upon their heads… _

_And this time… this time as he realized it was a trap, as the magic gripped him, held him immobile… as the King of Arinas gazed at him sadly… this time something was different. _

_He felt the lightning-spot pain as the twin rods pierced his body, slid through easily into the stone beneath. And he smiled. As he lay there dying, his life's blood pouring out of him onto the stone floor… he grinned up at the king until the end. It wouldn't be until years later that he'd find out the king's fate, but he knew even then something of what awaited the man when Kharl found out… _

_But this death wasn't like the first. Instead of an aimless sort of drifting darkness, this felt… confining. Sealed. Without a body, he lacked the sight to see what exactly was happening, but he felt it as the lid of the coffin was sealed shut, as his world narrowed down to six walls and a span of several feet. _

_Trapped forever, unable to drift freely in the soul-releasing numbness that should have been death and equally unable to wake up, it didn't take long for him to break. During those days, weeks, months, years of total darkness Rath quickly lost track of time. At first he was patient, waiting, watching, brushing lightly against the walls of his prison. But the longer the silence pressed upon him, the more he began to despair. Endless sunless hours were spent alternating between frustrated sobbing and screaming, then dissolving into hopeless, hysterical laughter. Not that there was anything funny about his predicament. But then there were times when he'd come back to himself and realize that he had _no idea _what he'd been doing or thinking for the last hour or day or week—who could really say how long? And as years stretched into centuries he spent less and less time in full consciousness. _

**Summary: Of course, by the time Rath gets released from his prison, he's in Kainaldia borrowing the body of a dog named Illuser, with no memory of who he is or how he got there. Really, I don't know if he even realizes that he's free, because after centuries of going slowly insane, the world is just another box with very wide walls. **

**He comes back to himself, standing in the hall in Kharl's castle, the wards on the door shattering before him, because after all, the spells are Kharl's, and he's part of Kharl too. As the door swings open, the thing inside is released: a soul, trapped for centuries in that room the same way he was trapped in a box, and shattered beyond any hope of sanity. From his experience with sharing Kharl's soul, Rath is now able to recognize the familiar pull of a shared soul. And unfortunately, it wants the piece Rath has back… **

**It lashes out at Rath—at the part of itself it can feel inside him, trying to tear it free, even while using their connection to hold him immobile. **

**Kharl feels it instantly, as he is also connected to the boy, and he **_**knows**_**… The puzzle falls together for him—the mistake of bringing Rath back where the pieces of his soul would be closer than ever, able to call to each other and gain strength from the proximity even through the block of time-worn wards. Realizing what's happening, he uses a spell to travel to Rath… and takes the hit instead. **

**The pain frees Rath, and he uses the sword of the King of Arinas he's still carrying and the knowledge of a lifetime he doesn't remember to seal the soul for good. **

**By the time Cesia and Bierrez manage to free themselves and get there, a confused and shaken Rath is holding the dying alchemist in his arms… a man he now remembers and recognizes as a piece of himself, even if the memories are too confusing to sort through. (And I have to apologize here, because what follows is practically a soliloquy from Kharl that I intended to cut it down to like one paragraph before posting, and uh, never got around to… Skip it if you want. If switches back to Rath at the end… ^^, ) **

"I thought I could keep you safe. I thought I could protect you. If you were here with me, far away from the cold devices and the tight grip of scheming races, perhaps you could escape the destiny you'd been chained to—chained the moment that Dragon Lord stuffed his blood in your veins! And if you didn't remember—if I erased all traces of the horror and abuse from even your own mind—then maybe you could be happy. Maybe you could live like you'd been meant to.

"And yes, selfishly, I wanted you by my side. So much so that I convinced myself it was what was best for you. I wanted to wake up and find you'd drawn all over my walls with butter. I wanted to be there when you first tried to fly and got stuck in the pine trees. I wanted you to reach out to me for help. Most of all, I wanted you to _need_ me, the way I needed you. _Desperately_. So much so that it was physically painful to watch you grow up in someone else's home. To watch you turn to them for help, and watch their poisonous, murdering, bloody hands hold you, embrace you, whisper soothing lies to you. To know that even _that_ was more preferable than me.

"To know they had your confidence, when I had only your hate.

"_Yes_, I wanted you with me. How could I not? Even though I knew we were different. Even though I knew time had stolen you from me, and set you on a course altogether changed from the one I'd imagined. And yet, it still surprised me when you began to revel in destroying souls—the way I reveled in creating them! I wonder now if that was really caused by our separation or if it was just inherently part of your nature. I _knew_ you were different. You were _meant_ to be different.

"How did Lykouleon do it? How did he let you go so often, knowing it might be the last time he saw you? Did he just not care? That's what I'd like to believe, but…

"I was so desperate to hang on to you—to keep you safe. I thought if I brought you here, these walls would shelter you, and you would be able to run around to your heart's content, because there was nothing here that could hurt you. I wouldn't have to worry. But every time you left the castle, huh… I _still_ worried. It made me want to hold on to you all the tighter. And it stifled you. I didn't see… I _couldn't_ see what Lykouleon realized ages ago. The tighter I clung, the more my arms seemed to become bars, the fiercer became your desire for freedom. If I'd let you go, would you have come back to me on your own? I was selfishly short-sided.

"But now I see, your purpose is _more_ than what I created you for. You don't belong to me alone. I can't have you to myself. I can't keep you from smiling at someone else.

"Rath, I care about you more than anything… forgive me…"

**(end of soliloquy) **

"No! No, don't!" Rath wasn't sure what he was saying. Don't what? Don't say that? Don't die? Did he really even care? There were so many memories in his mind now. He could no longer tell which ones were real.

It was all Kharl's fault! If it weren't for him, none of this would have happened. Rath wouldn't have come a hair's breadth from ceasing to exist, but then, Kharl would never have saved him either… And he remembered, though he wasn't sure it was real, being happy…

He needed more time, darn it! Time to sort through the mess in his mind. Time he was swiftly losing. As he watched Kharl's body pale in his arms, he was struck by the horrible realization… he couldn't let Kharl die. After all, there was only one person who knew the truth.

Hesitantly, he reached out… out of himself, and encased the dying soul in his own. He shook, staring down at hands suddenly covered with that darkly-glittering blood. And when he spoke, his voice faltered as well.

"Kharl… _Kharl_! You have to help me, I don't know… know how… to. I've never… _Help me_!"

* * *

Time passed. Bierrez paced back and forth, hating having to stay, but unwilling to leave Cesia, who had taken a seat quietly next to Rath. She slipped her hand through his and felt the reassuring pressure of his grip. It seemed to Rath that eternity passed sitting there, only half aware of the world, of Cesia by his side. An eternity of holding tight to the alchemist's cold body and trying to use memories he wanted nothing more than to forget. Of course, his memories alone were insufficient, and there was a point at which he had to rely on memories other than his own to feel his way through. And then there were frustrating moments where he was acutely aware that everything had to be just so, and he was surely messing it all up. But finally, finally, in a voice only Rath could hear…

"_Rath_…?" Softly. Disbelievingly.

Rath swallowed and heard himself say, "Shut up, Kharl. It's going to be okay…"

* * *

**Author Note:** Let me tell you, rereading this, I'm totally embarrassed now, like did I ever really write this? It sounds kind of sappy... ^^, And wow, now I remember why I didn't want to go back to this story… Now that the series is over, there is just no one here. Six visitors in three days. *shakes head* I miss X/99 already where there are always 40-60 hits the first three days and pretty reviews. *_* Oh well, it's not like I wasn't expecting that… (Give me a bit on the epilogue. I'll try to have it finished off in a week)

**Review Responses: **

**KatzeIason69:** Thank youuuuu! The review is much appreciated! It's all sort of sad and depressing to have been getting 6 or 7 reviews per chapter only to come back to… nothing. T_T I know summaries aren't what you wanted… *hides in shame*


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